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COPYRIGHT 1897, NOTMAN PHOTO. CO., BOSTON AND CAMBRIDGE. 


HELEN KELLER. 

“ How can you keep a determined soul from success? Place stumbling blocks in his way and 
he uses them for stepping stones; imprison him and he produces the ‘ Pilgrim’s Progress'; put 
him in a log cabin in the wilderness and we soon find him in the White House ; deprive him of 
eyesight and he produces ‘ Paradise Lost’ or writes the ‘ Conquest of Mexico.’” 






SUCCESS 


A BOOK OF IDEALS, HELPS, AND EXAMPLES 
FOR ALL DESIRING TO MAKE THE 
MOST OF LIFE 


BY 

ORISON SWETT MARDEN 

w 

Author of “ Pushing to the Front, or Success under Difficulties 
“ Architects of Fate, or Steps to Success and Power,” etc. 



ILLUSTRATED WITH FOURTEEN FINE PORTRAITS 
OF EMINENT PERSONS 


“ The ideal life, the life of full completion, haunts us all. We feel 
the thing we ought to be beating beneath the thing we are.” 

“ Build it well, whate’er you do ; 

Build it straight and strong and true; 

Build it clean and high and broad; 

Build it for the eye of God.” « 



W. A. WILDE & COMPANY 

25 Bromfield Street 



HF 5386 

\3€ 


Copyright, 1897, 

By W. A. Wilde & Company. 
All rights reserved. 


SUCCESS. 

Entered at Stationers’ Hall, London. 





EL' W. FT Vn&uc, , \ \ — 


PREFACE. 


cr~ 

o 


A preliminary description seems hardly necessary in 
a book whose every page is intended to stimulate, inspire, 
and encourage youth of all ages to do something and be 
somebody in the world, and to make the most of them¬ 
selves and their opportunities. But a few words in 
explanation of the author’s method of treating the various 
subjects considered may not be amiss. 

Nearly every youth is ambitious to succeed in some¬ 
thing. For success, heads ache, hearts pant, and hands 
work, everywhere and always. Whatever may be the 
motive or ideal, whether high or low, good or bad, the 
watchword and the goal are usually the same — success. 

But very few people are so constituted that they can 
overcome adverse circumstances without a spur of some 
kind, and in this volume the author has endeavored to 
furnish incentives to higher ideals and nobler endeavor. 
He has aimed to teach his lessons, as far as possible, by 
entertaining concrete examples. He believes that who¬ 
ever would help the average twentieth-century youth 
must first interest him. Mere abstract precepts and 
goody-goody moralizing will have no attraction for such 
a youth, and it is only a waste of time to lament the 
fact. Of course it is true that the snap should be in the 
horse; but, when it is not, we must put it into the whip. 

Yet the energy of the least ambitious youth is only 
latent. There is gunpowder enough in most any one if 
we can only get the spark to it. To do this is the work 
of every true teacher. 


5 



6 


PREFACE. 


The age is intensely practical. The ambitious youth 
of to-day is eager for every bit of information, every 
suggestion or hint that will help him get on in the 
world, — that will teach him how he may acquire wealth 
or power. He does not care so much to know how genius 
succeeds, as how common, every-day people like himself 
have won the prizes of life. 

The author has aimed to meet this demand on the part 
of young readers. He has tried to fill the book with 
suggestive material, with fresh, living truths; to make it 
a storehouse of incentives, a treasury of precious say¬ 
ings ; to put inspiration, encouragement, and helpfulness 
on every page; to drive his lesson home with such an 
abundance of telling illustrations drawn from actual 
experience that the reader will exclaim: “ Why, these 
people were worse handicapped than I am ! They suc¬ 
ceeded ; — why not I ? ” 

But in and through and over all, the one great lesson 
he has tried to impress upon the reader is that manhood 
and womanhood are above all riches and superior to all 
titles, — that character is greater than any career. 

“Everything wise has already been thought out,” says 
a German writer; “one can only try to think it once 
more.” Believing that this is largely true, the author 
makes no claim to originality except in his method. So 
far as his materials are concerned, he has culled flowers 
from many thought-gardens, and collected incidents from 
many typical lives. 

He wishes, therefore, to express his obligation for 
many a hint and suggestion gathered from the works of 
other writers; and especially desires to acknowledge 
valuable assistance from Mr. Arthur W. Brown of West 
Kingston, It. I. 

O. S. M. 

Boston, Mass., May 25, 1897. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Enthusiasm.11 


“ Every great and commanding movement in the 
annals of the world is the triumph of some enthusi¬ 
asm. Nothing great was ever achieved without it.” 

II. Education under Difficulties .... 32 

How can you keep back a determined youth who 
thirsts for knowledge and yearns for improvement, 
after he has once learned the alphabet ? 

III. The Game of the World.69 

Everybody is struggling for the good things of 
the world, and all arguments to prove that they are 
not desirable are worse than wasted. 

IV. Misfit Occupations.95 

If you have found your place, you will be happy 
in it, and all your faculties will give their consent 
to your choice. 

V. Doing Everything to a Finish .... Ill 

It is no disgrace to be a shoemaker; but it is a 
disgrace for a shoemaker to make bad shoes. 

VI. “ Help Yourself Society ”.140 

A lowly beginning and a humble origin are no 
barrier to a great career. 

Don’t wait for your opportunity ; make it. 

7 




8 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

VII. “I will” .168 


Will finds a way, or makes one. 

The world always stands aside for the determined 
youth, and makes way for the man with a will in 
him. 

VIII. Conduct as a Fine Art .200 

The art of pleasing is the art of rising in the 
world. Conduct is three-fourths of life. 

A fine manner is a fortune in itself. 

IX. Character-building .237 

Not a throne in Europe could have stood against 
Washington’s character. Character is success, and 
there is no other. 

X. Medicine for the Mind .252 

Many a youth has been started on a noble career 
by reading a single book. 

A library of good books in every private house in 
America would revolutionize our entire civilization. 

XI. “This One Thing I do” .266 

It is the single aim that wins. It is the man with 
a purpose that leaves his mark on the world. 

XII. “I had a Friend” .288 

No man is your friend who will corrupt you. 

XIII. Ideals .311 

Nothing so strengthens the mind, enlarges the 
manhood, and widens the thought, as constant 
effort to measure up to a high ideal, to struggle 
after that which is beyond us and above us. 




LIST OF PORTRAITS 


Helen Keller 




Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Henry Clay .... 





to face 

24 

Thomas Alya Edison . 





44 

62 

George Peabody . 





44 

73 

Benjamin Franklin . 





44 

100 

Samuel F. B. Morse . 





44 

116 

Ulysses S. Grant 





44 

156 

Oliver Hazard Perry 





44 

174 

Robert E. Lee 





44 

204 

William Ewart Gladstone 





44 

244 

Abraham Lincoln 





44 

258 

Prince Bismarck . 





44 

270 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 





44 

291 

Phillifs Brooks . 





44 

329 


e 











SUCCESS 




CHAPTER I. 


ENTHUSIASM. 

Every great and commanding movement in the annals of the world 
is the triumph of some enthusiasm. Nothing great was ever achieved 
without it. — Emerson. 

Nothing is so contagious as Enthusiasm; it is the real allegory of 
the lute of Orpheus — it moves stones, it charms brutes. Enthusiasm 
is the genius of sincerity, and Truth accomplishes no victories without 
it. — Lord Lytton. 

This world is given as a prize for the men in earnest. — F. W. 
Robertson. 

Experience shows that success is due less to ability than to zeal. 
The winner is he who gives himself to his work, — body and soul.— 
Charles Buxton. 

A man in earnest finds means or, if he cannot find, creates them.— 
Charming. 

But never hope to stir the hearts of men, 

And mold the souls of many into one, 

By words which come not native from the heart! — Goethe. 

When people meet with empty minds,—people who live only for 
amusement, not for anything serious, — how commonplace and how 
superficial is the talk ! Even when there is talent, culture, know¬ 
ledge, if there is not earnestness, it does not go to the root of things, 
— it is unsatisfactory. — James Freeman Clarke. 

“How ages thine heart —towards youth? If not, doubt thy fitness 
for thy work.” 

There is no substitute for thorough-going, ardent, and sincere ear¬ 
nestness. — Dickens. 

I think I love and reverence all arts equally, only putting my own 
just above the others. — Charlotte Cushman. 

“ Rub-a -dub-dub, rub-a-dub-dub, rub-a-dub-dub-dub- 
dub,” sounded through the keen Alpine air; and 
cheerily from behind the drum looked forth the 
fresh, rosy face of a boy but ten years old, so bright 

11 


12 


SUCCESS. 


and pretty and buoyant among the grim, scarred 
visages of the army of veterans. When the cutting 
wind whirled a shower of snow in his face, he 
dashed it away with a jolly laugh, and awoke the 
echoes with a lively rattle of his drum, till it seemed 
as if the huge, beetling rocks, the icicles, and the 
pinnacles of snow around were all singing in the 
reverberating chorus. 

“Bravo, petit tambour /” (little drummer), ex¬ 
claimed “ Fighting Macdonald,” one of the bravest 
of Napoleon’s marshals. 

“ Rub-a-dub-dub, rub-a-dub-dub, rub-a-dub-dub-dub- 
dub,” rattled the drummer, with redoubled zeal and 
a bright, optimistic air that spread a contagion of 
hope and ambition through the division. 

“ Long live our General! ” shouted a hoarse voice, 
and from mouth to mouth a cheer rolled like dis¬ 
tant thunder along the towering mountains. 

But hark! What undertone is that, so tremulous 
yet so rustling, so faint yet so oppressive, so mys¬ 
terious in its muffled whisper like the sound of 
viewless wings, yet so ominous in its husky menace 
of coming doom ? It is not well to shout among 
the Alps, lest the drifted snow swoop downward on 
its storm-wings to punish the intruder. 

Scarcely had the echo died away, when the sec¬ 
ond noise, so different in kind from the echo, — a 
strange, uncanny murmur, — seemed to moan and 
wail far up the mountain side. Nearer and nearer 
it swelled, and louder and harsher it grew, until all 
the air shuddered in the deep, hoarse roar. 


ENTHUSIASM. 


13 


“ On your faces, lads! down, for your lives! ” 
shouted Macdonald; “it’s an avalanche!” 

Down thundered the ruin, sweeping the narrow 
path like a cataract, and bearing along heaps of 
bowlders and gravel, and uprooted bushes and trees, 
and great blocks of pale blue ice. Darkness as of 
midnight followed for a moment, — the darkness 
of the grave to many a soldier, caught in the whirl¬ 
wind rush. 

“Where’s our Pierre? Where’s our little drum¬ 
mer?” were the first words that broke the awful 
stillness when the avalanche had come to rest in 
the valleys, and its echoes had died among the hills. 

W here indeed ? 

A cry of grief burst from many a veteran who 
had looked unmoved into the muzzles of a line of 
leveled muskets. 

“ Rub-a-dub-dub, rub-a-dub-dub, rub-a-dub-dub-dub- 
dub, dub-dub,” came the faint roll of a drum beating 
the charge from far below. 

“ What courage! What enthusiasm! ” exclaimed 
an old grenadier, with tears in his eyes. “We 
must save him, lads, or he’ll freeze to death down 
there! He must be saved!” 

“ He shall be saved! ” broke in the deep voice 
of Macdonald, as he threw off his cloak on the 
very brink of the precipice. 

“No, no, General!” cried the grenadiers; “you 
mustn’t run such a risk as that. Let one of us go 
instead; your life is worth more than all of ours 
put together,” 


14 


SUCCESS. 


“My soldiers are my children,” said Macdonald, 
quietly, “and no father grudges his own life to 
save his son.” 

Down, down by a rope they lowered their Gen¬ 
eral until he disappeared in the cold, black depth 
below. 

“Pierre!” shouted he as loud as he could; 
“ where are you, my boy ? ” 

“ Here, General,” came a weak voice from a huge 
mound of snow whose softness alone had saved the 
little fellow. 

“All right now, brave boy,” said Macdonald, as 
he pulled the half-buried drummer out. “ Put your 
arms round my neck and hold tight; we’ll have 
you out of this in a minute.” 

But the stiffened fingers of the boy had lost their 
strength; and, even when the General clasped the tiny 
arms about his neck, their hold gave way at once. 

The numbing cold of that dismal place would 
soon make him as powerless as the boy. What 
could be done? 

Tearing off his sash and knotting one end to the 
rope, he bound Pierre and himself together with 
the other, signaled upward, and soon they were 
on the cliff above. Forgetting all risk of an ava¬ 
lanche, the soldiers gave cheer after cheer, and the 
echoes joined until it seemed as if the hills shared 
in the rejoicing. 

“We’ve been under fire and snow together,” said 
the General, tenderly chafing the cold hands of the 
boy, “ and nothing shall part us as long as we live.” 


ENTHUSIASM. 


15 


In an hour Pierre felt as well as ever; and, when 
the order was given to advance, his “ rub-a-dub-dub, 
rub-a-dub-dub, rub-a-dub-dub-dub-dub,” rolled from 
the drum with redoubled determination and zeal. 
All through that fearful winter “ Passage of the 
Splugen,” — more terrible in many ways than Na¬ 
poleon’s feat of crossing the Alps in summer, — the 
little drummer’s enthusiasm proved an inspiration 
and encouragement to officers and men alike. 

What may not even a boy do when his whole 
heart is in his work? 

Rufus Choate was so moved by the sight of his 
audience that it was necessary for him to remain in 
the anteroom until it was time for him to speak, to 
reserve his strength and magnetism. 

After Spenser had finished his poem, “The Fairy 
Queen,” he carried it to the Earl of Southampton, the 
great patron of the poets of that day. When the manu¬ 
script was sent to the Earl, he read a few pages and 
ordered his servant to give the writer twenty pounds. 
Reading on, he cried in rapture, “Carry that man 
another twenty pounds.” Turning a few more pages, 
he exclaimed, “ Give him twenty pounds more.” 
But at length he lost all patience and said, “Go, 
turn that fellow out of the house, for if I read further 
I shall be ruined.” 

“ I would give my skin for the architect’s design 
of that building!” exclaimed Christopher Wren, as 
he gazed at the Louvre in Paris, whither he had gone 
to get ideas for the restoration of St. Paul’s Cathe¬ 
dral in London. His enthusiasm seemed to possess 


16 


SUCCESS. 


him. When he died, the following epitaph was 
placed on his tombstone: 

“ Underneath is laid the builder of this church 
and city, Christopher Wren, who lived more than 
ninety years, not for himself, but for the public good. 
Reader, if you seek his monument, look around ! ” 

He who does look around will soon find that the 
finest architecture in England is the work of Christo¬ 
pher Wren. 

Nearly all the great improvements, discoveries, in¬ 
ventions, and achievements which have elevated and 
blessed humanity have been the triumphs of enthu¬ 
siasm. 

What is enthusiasm but a passionate belief in what 
seems to be a high and holy aim, — an unselfish de¬ 
votion to some noble cause, — a consecration of heart 
and mind and soul to the attainment of a great ob¬ 
ject ? What is it but an earnest effort to attain the 
heights of spiritual and intellectual endeavor? What 
is it but the life, the force, the power, which makes 
individuals or nations capable of enduring much and 
waiting long, in the conviction that ultimately the 
thing they have at heart will be accomplished ? It 
is easy to ridicule this boundless hope, this all-em¬ 
bracing faith, to sneer at visionaries, and laugh at 
their dreams. But in the eyes of the Pharisees was 
not our Lord an enthusiast , and his kingdom a delu¬ 
sion or a deception ? And what urns St. Paul but an 
enthusiast in the opinion of King Agrippa, as he 
turned from him with an easy smile, protesting that 
he was “ almost persuaded ” to be a Christian ? And 


ENTHUSIASM. 


17 


the saints and martyrs of the first two centuries, — 
those men who went on their way unmoved by the 
fatal cry of “ Christiani ad leones ,” — by threats of 
torture in the Roman arena, — what were they but 
enthusiasts ? Are not all men enthusiasts who , at the 
risk of their heart's blood and the sacrifice of much 
that is very dear , incessantly labor to purify and better 
the world f 

Palissy, toiling in the face of poverty and failure 
to discover the secret of the white enamel, was so 
intoxicated with enthusiasm that men thought him a 
fool. God’s fool lie was, with a great hope in his heart 
for which he gladly suffered the loss of all things. 
When he saw in a show-window an imported enam¬ 
eled cup which no one in his country knew how to du¬ 
plicate, the ware fascinated him, and he could not rest 
until he had discovered the secret of its manufacture. 

“ Cranks, my son ? ” asks Robert J. Burdette. “ The 
world is full of them. What would we do were it 
not for the cranks? How slowly the tired old world 
would move, did not the cranks keep it rushing along! 
Columbus was a crank on the subject of discovery 
and circumnavigation, and at last he met the fate of 
most cranks, — was thrown into prison, and died in 
poverty and disgrace. Greatly venerated now ? Oh, 
yes, Telemachus, we usually esteem a crank most 
profoundly after we starve him to death. 

“ Harvey was a crank on the subject of the circu¬ 
lation of the blood ; Galileo was an astronomical 
crank; Fulton was a crank on the subject of steam 
navigation; Morse was a telegraph crank; all the 


18 


SUCCESS. 


abolitionists were cranks; John Bunyan was a crank; 
any man who doesn’t think as you do, my son, is a 
crank. 

“ And by and by the crank you despise will have 
his name in every man’s mouth, and a half-completed 
monument to his memory crumbling down in a dozen 
cities, while nobody outside of your native village 
will know that you ever lived. Deal gently with 
the crank, my boy. Of course, some cranks are 
crankier than others, but do you be very slow to 
sneer at a man because he knows only one thing and 
you can’t understand him. A crank, Telemachus, 
is a thing that turns something, it makes the wheels 
go round, it insures progress. True, it turns the 
same wheel all the time, and it can’t do anything 
else, but that’s what keeps the ship going ahead. 

“ The thing that goes in for variety, versatility, 
that changes its position a hundred times a day, that 
is no crank; that is the weather-vane, my son. 
What? You nevertheless thank Heaven you are 
not a crank? Don’t do that, my son. Maybe you 
couldn’t be a crank if you would. Heaven is not 
very particular when it wants a weather-vane; al¬ 
most any man will do for that. But when it wants 
a crank, my boy, it looks about very carefully for 
the best man in the community. Before you thank 
Heaven that you are not a crank, examine yourself 
carefully, and see what is the great deficiency that 
debars you from such an election.” 

It is this solid faith in one's mission , — the rooted 
belief that it is the one thing to which he has been 


ENTHUSIASM. 


19 


called, — this enthusiasm, attracting an Agassiz to 
the Alps or the Amazon, impelling a Pliny to ex¬ 
plore the volcano in which he is to lose his life, and 
nerving a Yernet, when tossing in a fierce tempest, 
to sketch the waste of waters, and even the wave 
that is leaping up to devour him, — that marks the 
heroic spirit. 

Watt’s whole heart was buried in his engine. “ I 
can think of nothing else,” he says, “ but I cannot 
let my family starve.” 

Raphael’s enthusiasm inspired every artist in Italy. 

Turner could not bear to sell a favorite painting. 
It was a portion of his being; to part with it was the 
rendering up, the blotting out of that space of his 
life spent in its creation. He was always dejected 
and melancholy after such a transaction. “ I lost 
one of my children this week,” he would sadly ex¬ 
claim, and that with tears in his eyes. 

From the baking of a loaf of bread for the family 
to the law-making of a statesman for a nation, there 
must enter in this vivifying element that electrifies 
and makes potent every effort. Just as soon as this 
dies away, no matter what success has been attained 
in the past, a season of dry rot sets in, and the end is 
death to further accomplishment. 

“ I should think myself a criminal,” says Charles 
Dudley Warner, “ if I said anything to chill the en¬ 
thusiasm of the young scholar, or to dash with any 
skepticism his longing and his hope. He has chosen 
the highest. His beautiful faith and his aspiration 
are the light of life. Without his fresh enthusiasm, 


20 


SUCCESS. 


and his gallant devotion to learning, to art, to cul¬ 
ture, the world would be dreary enough. 

“ Through him comes the ever-springing inspira¬ 
tion in affairs. Baffled at every turn, and driven 
defeated from a hundred fields, he carries victory in 
himself. He belongs to a great and immortal army. 
Let him not be discouraged at his apparently small 
influence, even though every sally of every young 
life may seem like a forlorn hope. Ho man can see 
the whole of the battle. It must needs be that 
regiment after regiment, trained, accomplished, gay 
and high with hope, shall be sent into the field, 
marching on, into the smoke, into the fire, and be 
swept away. The battle swallows them, one after 
the other, and the foe is yet unyielding, and the 
ever-remorseless trumpet calls for more and more. 
But not in vain; for some day, and every day, along 
the line, there is a cry, ‘ They fly, they fly 5 ; and the 
whole army advances, and the flag is planted on an 
ancient fortress, where it never waved before. And 
even if you never see this, better than inglorious 
camp-following is it to go in with the wasted regi¬ 
ment, to carry the colors up the slope of the enemy’s 
works, though the next moment you fall and find a 
grave at the foot of the glacis.” 

The foreman of a bootblack shop in Madison 
Square, New York, is a continual source of surprise 
to the customers, but his conduct justifies his em¬ 
ployer’s confidence. He is the hardest worker among 
the employees, and frequently takes the brushes from 
one of his subordinates when there are not enough 


ENTHUSIASM. 


21 


customers to keep all busy. He never allows a cus¬ 
tomer to go away unless he is satisfied that his boots 
have been polished in the best manner possible. lie 
is ever full of enthusiasm, and works at the end of a 
busy day with as much energy as at the beginning. 
His humor never lags, and his muscles never tire. 

“It is a lesson in enthusiasm; watch that fellow,” 
said a spectator; “ he is the only man I ever saw 
who always seems to love to work.” 

There is a wide range of skill in the blacking of 
boots, from that which covers them with a coarse, 
fibrous, lustreless paste to that which changes them 
to polished ebony. I have seen an artistic zeal and 
pride in his work shown by a shabby, grimy little 
street Arab which would have redeemed many an 
ambitious canvas from ignoble mediocrity. 

The clerks in a large mercantile house ridiculed a 
young companion who began as an office boy, for 
doing so manj 7 things which did not belong to him 
to do. They laughed at his enthusiasm and interest 
in the business, saying that there was no sense in it, 
and that he would never get a cent for it. Hot long 
afterwards, he was selected from all the employees 
and taken into the firm as a partner, and became in 
time manager of one of the largest concerns in the 
country. 

The most irresistible charm of youth is its bubbling 
enthusiasm. Youth sees no darkness ahead, — no 
defile that has no outlet, — it forgets that there is 
such a thing as failure in the world, and believes that 
mankind has been waiting all these centuries for him 


22 


SUCCESS. 


to come and be the liberator of truth and energy and 
beauty. 

Carnot was chairman of the Committee of Public 
Safety during the French Revolution, and directed the 
operations of fourteen armies, which turned back the 
invaders who rushed down from the Alps and Pyre¬ 
nees. As a proof and explanation of his great military 
genius, it is told of his boyhood that he was taken to 
the theatre to witness the representation of a battle 
scene. At one stage of the play he saw that the 
attacking party was exposed to the sweep of a 
battery, and he startled the audience by crying out 
to the commanding officer to change his position or 
his men would be shot. 

Enthusiastic youth faces the sun, its shadows all 
behind it. The heart rules youth ; the head, man¬ 
hood. Napoleon had conquered Italy at twenty-five. 
Henry Kirke White died at twenty-one, but what a 
record for a youth he left! Byron and Raphael 
died at thirty-seven, an age which has been fatal to 
many a genius, and Poe lived but a few months 
longer. Romulus founded Rome at twenty. Glad¬ 
stone was in Parliament in early manhood. 

It is the enthusiasm of youth which cuts the 
Gordian knot age cannot untie. 

John Jacob Astor would hang a fine fur in his 
counting-room as others hang pictures; he would 
stroke it with enthusiasm, extol its beauty, and add 
that it was worth five hundred dollars in Canton. 

The simple, innocent Maid of Orleans with her 
sacred sword and consecrated banner, and her belief 


ENTHUSIASM. 


23 


in her great mission, sent a thrill of enthusiasm 
through the whole French army, which neither King 
nor previous leader had been able to produce. Her 
zeal carried everything before it, and made hers a 
name of dread to the English army. Charles YII., 
who had not dared to appear on the scene of action 
until inspired by this simple girl, boldly set out for 
Rheims, where, Joan told him, he would be crowned ; 
and, although the intervening country was in the 
hands of the English, every city-gate opened to them 
as they advanced. The coronation occurred as she 
had said it would. 

It was enthusiasm that sent Phil. Sheridan dashing 
down the Shenandoah valley, to utterly rout Early 
and his rebel host. The same power enables the 
Cubans to hold out against the policy of a tyrannical 
government and will eventually bring them to a well- 
deserved freedom. 

Courage recognizes the danger and meets it with a 
serene front. Confidence in one’s powers, the thought 
of the prize to be won, the love of glory and reputa¬ 
tion, a knowledge of the means at our disposal, and 
a faith in fortune are the considerations which 
strengthen courage, and if they are marshaled in 
battle array and led by enthusiasm, the fears which 
hovered over our path will be routed like flocks of 
evil-boding birds. 

It is this most potent factor that is present in all 
accomplishment which is of value. Does a speaker 
thrill you with the magic of an eloquence that seems 
to carry you out of your ordinary self, and sometimes 


24 


SUCCESS. 


to lead your very convictions captive? Be assured 
that it is because the speech is vitalized with the 
enthusiasm of an earnest belief which knows no 
doubt or hesitation. It enters into every invention, 
every masterpiece of painting or sculpture, every 
great poem, essay, or novel that holds the world 
breathless with admiration. 

It is a spiritual power. It has its birth among the 
higher potencies. You never find true enthusiasm in 
those people who are always groveling in the dirt 
at the feet of the senses. In its very nature it is 
uplifting. 

Earnest, practical, and patriotic, Henry Clay needed 
little assistance from books to teach him what to 
say. When speaking in the Senate he forgot him¬ 
self as completely as if he were a father pleading for 
his children. On one occasion in appealing to the 
President of the Senate, he became so oblivious of 
everybody and everything but his subject, that he 
left his place on the floor of the Senate Chamber, 
and by gradual steps came down to the chair of the 
Vice-President, where he stood appealing to him as 
if none but the latter and himself were present, leav¬ 
ing behind him all his colleagues, who were watching 
him and listening to him in silent but wondering 
admiration. 

It was enthusiasm that led Patrick Henry to utter 
those patriotic words so familiar to every boy and 
girl, and the same element made Webster defend 
right rather than a selfish desire. 

Professor Iioentgen was enthusiastic in his research 


HENRY CLAY. 

“The only conclusive evidence of a man’s sincerity is that he gives himself 
or a principle. Words, money, all things else are comparatively easy to give 
away; but when a man makes a gift of his daily life and practise, it is plain that 
the truth, whatever it may be, has taken possession of him.” 
















































































































































ENTHUSIASM. 


25 


for knowledge which has made his name a house¬ 
hold word throughout every civilized land. Arouse 
yourself, wake up, don’t dream ; this is a bad habit 
during the night, but a ruinous one after sunrise. 
Don’t be a leaner, but an enthusiastic lifter. 

Do not be afraid of enthusiasm. Let people call 
you an enthusiast with an inflection of pity or half 
contempt in the voice. If a thing seems to you 
worth working for at all, if it appears to you of 
moment enough to challenge any effort, then put 
into what you do all the enthusiasm of which you 
are capable, regardless of criticism. He laughs best 
who laughs last. It is never the half-hearted, the 
coldly critical, the doubting and fearing, that accom¬ 
plish the most. 

Enthusiasm will steady the heart and strengthen the 
will; it will give force to the thought, and nerve the 
hand until what was only a possibility becomes a 
reality. 

“ What do you think of Mr. Whitefield? ” asked a 
man who had just been listening to the great preacher. 
“Think of him ?” asked a ship-builder; “I tell you, 
sir, every Sunday that I go to my parish church I 
can build a ship from stem to stern under the ser¬ 
mon ; but were I to save my soul, under Mr. White- 
field I could not lay a single plank.” 

A hot iron, even though blunt, will penetrate 
further into a board than a cold tool, though it be 
sharp. 

“The best method is obtained by earnestness,” 
said Salvini. “ If you can impress people with the 


26 


SUCCESS. 


conviction that you feel what you say, they will par¬ 
don many shortcomings. And above all, study, study, 
study ! All the genius in the world will not help you 
along with any art unless you become a hard student. 
It has taken me years to master a single part.” 

A certain bishop once said to Garrick, the famous 
actor, “ How is it, Mr. Garrick, that you can, by your 
acting, persuade people that a made-up story is true, 
while I have difficulty in making them believe the 
real truth ? ” “ Is it not, my lord,” said Garrick, 

“that you preach the truth as if you did not believe 
it, while I act that which is not true as if I did be¬ 
lieve it ? ” 

The “Moses” of Michael Angelo is one of the 
colossal figures designed by him for the mausoleum 
of Julius II., and is now in the church of San Pietro 
in Yincoli, Rome. It stood in the sculptor’s work¬ 
shop for over forty years, and it is related that the 
master so deeply impressed himself with the lifelike 
appearance of the figure that he rushed up to it and, 
striking it vehemently with his hammer, — making a 
crack in one knee, — exclaimed, “ Speak to me! ” 
thus, in one moment, marring the crowning work of 
a lifetime. 

Mozart declared on his death-bed that he began 
“ to see what may be done in music.” 

In the course of the investigation which Professor 
Tyndall made, seeking to separate light from heat, 
he made one of the most daring experiments that 
ever a scientific man ventured to attempt. Knowing 
that a layer of iodine placed before the eye intercepts 


ENTHUSIASM. 


27 


the light, he determined to place his own eye in the 
focus of strong invisible rays. He knew that if in 
doing so the dark rays were absorbed in a high 
degree by the humors of the eye, the albumen of the 
humors might coagulate and ruin the sight; and, on 
the other hand, if there were no high absorption, 
the rays might strike upon the retina with a force 
sufficient to destroy it. When he first brought his 
eye, undefended, near the dark focus, the heat on 
the parts surrounding the pupil was too intense to 
be endured. He therefore made an aperture in a 
plate of metal, and, placing his eye behind this aper¬ 
ture, he gradually approached the point of conver¬ 
gence of the invisible rays. First the pupil and next 
the retina were placed in the focus without any sen¬ 
sible damage. Immediately afterwards a sheet of 
platinum foil placed in the position which the retina 
had occupied became red-hot. 

“Men are nothing,” exclaimed Montaigne, “until 
they are excited.” Like the new and added power 
of the young lover to paint in hues of paradise the 
ugliest object, enthusiasm gives the otherwise dry 
and uninteresting subject or occupation a new mean¬ 
ing*. As the lover has finer sense and more acute 
vision, and sees in the object of his affections a hun¬ 
dred virtues and charms invisible to all other eyes, 
so a man permeated with enthusiasm has his power 
of perception heightened and his vision magnified, 
until he sees beauty and charms others cannot discern 
which compensate for drudgery, privations, hardships, 
and even persecution. Dickens says he was haunted, 


28 


SUCCESS. 


possessed, spirit-driven, by the plots and characters in 
his stories which would not let him sleep or rest until 
he had committed them to paper. On one sketch he 
shut himself up for a month, and when he came out 
he looked haggard as a murderer. His characters 
haunted him day and night. 

Ole Bull showed a great passion for music at an 
early age, according to one of his biographers. Noth¬ 
ing could restrain the enthusiastic lad, and music 
nearly crazed him. Near his home on the island of 
Yalestrand, a cave is still pointed out as the place 
where young Ole practiced on the violin. He passed 
nights and days in his practice. The weird sounds 
that came from the cave filled the rustics with 
astonishment and alarm. They thought the fairies 
were holding carnival. In that solitary dwelling- 
place he secured the wonderful mastery over the 
violin which marked all his public career. He had 
undoubted talent, but it was his enthusiasm, his mag¬ 
netism and industry, that bore away all barriers. 
With no friend but his violin, at twenty, he started 
for Paris. He desired to hear the great artists of 
the world and to perfect himself in playing. He 
formed alliances that tinged and affected his whole 
life. The gay capital recognized his genius, and he 
produced, throughout the French Empire, a furore 
that had never been equaled. 

Ole Bull was educated for the ministry. After¬ 
wards he studied law and was admitted to the bar. 
No study and no discipline could repress his love for 
the violin. 


ENTHUSIASM. 


29 


Like so many men of genius, an accident brought 
him to the front. He was at Bologna, under de¬ 
pressing circumstances, trying to compose a piece of 
music. Madame Rossini, by chance, passed his apart¬ 
ment. Her attention was arrested by the ravishing 
music she heard. The Philharmonic Society was in 
distress owing to the failure of distinguished artists. 
Ole Bull was sent for, was received with great ap¬ 
plause, and entered upon a career of success that 
followed him round the globe. The sympathy that 
existed between him and his violin bewitched an 
audience. He talked to it, petted it, caressed it, and 
breathed his soul into it. The violin responded to 
his caresses, and with it the great artist swayed the 
multitude, as forests are swayed by the tempest. He 
played into it as if he were indifferent to all else, 
toyed with it, laid his head upon it, and held it as 
if he were afraid it would escape him. Whatever 
he willed it, that it became, and his enthusiasm was 
irresistible. 

The affection the Norwegians bore him seemed 
unparalleled. He was a popular idol, a sort of house¬ 
hold god. His face was in all the public places of 
Norway. It was embossed on the teacups, drink¬ 
ing-cups, and household goods of the nation. Honors 
were conferred on him, and he scattered his great 
wealth in liberal donations. His face, luminous as a 
cathedral window lit up for Christmas, seemed to 
carry joy everywhere. 

The Pope was so overjoyed when Raphael fin¬ 
ished his “ Theology ” or “ La Disputa , 55 that he 


30 


SUCCESS. 


threw himself upon the ground, it is said, exclaiming 
with uplifted hands, “I thank thee, great God, that 
thou hast sent me so great a painter.” 

Raphael's “ Sistine Madonna” was bought by the 
Elector of Saxony for $40,000. The throne of Sax¬ 
ony was displaced to give this miracle of genius a 
home. When Correggio gazed upon it, he exclaimed, 
“ I too am a painter.” 

He who respects his work so highly (and does it 
so reverently) that he cares little what the world 
thinks of it, is the man about whom the world comes 
at last to think a great deal. 

“ The best product of labor,” said Horace Greeley, 
“ is the high-minded workman, with an enthusiasm 
for his work.” 

“That which stirs his pulse,” says Mr. Huxley, 
“ is the love of knowledge and" the joy of the dis¬ 
covery of those things sung by the old poets, the 
supreme delight of extending the realm of law and 
order ever farther towards the unattainable goals of 
the infinitely great and the infinitely small, between 
which our little race of life is run. Nothing great in 
science has ever been done by men, whatever their 
power, in whom the divine afflatus of the truthseeker 
was wanting.” 

A great audience sat listening breathlessly to 
Othello’s expression of mingled grief and remorse 
at the bedside of his murdered Desdemona, At the 
very climax of the scene, just as he was about to 
plunge the dagger into his own breast, a plain man 
in every-day dress, the mayor of the town, stepped 


ENTHUSIASM. 


31 


upon the stage with a paper in his hand and said, 
w Ladies and Gentlemen, Lee has surrendered.” 
What cared the people for Desdemona or Othello 
when they were transported by patriotic enthusiasm? 

Disraeli considered enthusiasm an incomparable 
faculty, a divine gift, which enables a statesman to 
command the world. 

Gladstone’s intense earnestness and enthusiasm 
have been a continual inspiration to his asso¬ 
ciates. 

The power of Phillips Brooks, at which men won¬ 
dered, lay in his tremendous earnestness. 

Without earnestness no man is ever great, or does really 
great things. He may be the cleverest of men, he may be 
brilliant, entertaining, popular, but he will want weight. No 
soul-moving picture was ever painted that had not in it the 
depth of shadow. — Peter Bayne. 

When one of the common multitude happens to light upon 
a work of genius, he does not have that deep, abiding, affec¬ 
tionate interest which a kindred spirit takes in it. He does not 
fall in love with it; dote on it; dwell with rapture on its beau¬ 
ties; return again and again to it, and see new beauties in it 
every time. — Robert Waters. 

No matter what the object is, whether business, pleasure, 
or the fine arts, whoever pursues it to any purpose must do so 
con amore. — Melmoth. 

The only conclusive evidence of a man’s sincerity is that he 
gives himself for a principle. Words, money, all things else, 
are comparatively easy to give away; but when a man makes a 
gift of his daily life and practice, it is plain that the truth, 
whatever it may be, has taken possession of him. — Lowell. 


CHAPTER II. 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


I came upstairs into the world, for I was horn in a cellar. — William 

Congreve. 

In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves for a bright manhood, 
there is no such word as fail. — Bulwer. 

There are no crown-wearers in heaven who were not cross-bearers 
here below. — Spurgeon. 

I do not remember a hook in all the depths of learning, nor a scrap 
in literature, nor a work in all the schools of art from which its author 
has derived a permanent renown, that is not known to have been long 
and patiently elaborated. — Beecher. 

There is no excellence uncoupled with difficulties. — Ovid. 

Though in the strife thy heart should bleed, 

Whatever obstacles control, 

Thine hour will come—go on, true soul! 

Thou ’It win the prize, thou’lt reach the goal. — C. Mackay. 

Oh gods, gods, here in a garret, waiting for bread, and expecting to 
be dunned for a milk score! — Goldsmith. 

Surmounted difficulties not only teach, but hearten us in our future 
struggles. — Sharpe. 

In all countries where Nature does the most, man does the least; 
and where she does but little, there we shall find the acme of human 
exertion. — Colton. 

Education is not a sure guarantee of success; many other things 
enter into the consideration of the subject; but I am saying that, other 
things being equal, he who knows the most will do the best. — Comegys. 

“I am poor, unknown, and friendless,” thought Ti 
Yin of Quong Si, “and it is more than twelve hun¬ 
dred miles to Pekin, where the great civil-service 
examination will be held a month hence; but what 
is a walk of twelve hundred miles to a healthy youth 
with ambition for a government office, and in China 
who ever heard of poverty and lack of influence 
standing in the way of merit, learning, and justice? 

32 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


33 


“ From earliest childhood I have studied diligently 
and have improved every opportunity to increase my 
store of learning. I feel that I am worthily pre¬ 
pared, and who will say that I may not hope to take 
the first degree, or possibly the second degree of 
Tszin S. S. ? I sometimes think that I should not 
presume too much if I should try to get the third 
degree of Han Lin, or even, perhaps, that of Chung 
Yuen, highest of all and honored throughout the 
Empire. I will go and do my best. The richest 
youth can do no more.” 

Long and weary was the journey; but the young- 
aspirant, although poorly clad, gaunt from hunger, 
and footsore from his month’s tramp, was received 
with as much consideration as the wealthiest com¬ 
petitor. He remained long enough to hand in a full 
set of essays; but he had spent his last penny, and 
was forced to leave before the awards were made, 
too tired and sick to give more than passing thought 
to what he had come to consider a waste of time 
and effort. So despondent had he become that he 
had almost determined to commit suicide. 

“What is the matter?” asked a kind-hearted 
waiter at a little inn where Ti stopped for a few 
minutes’ rest; “ your sorrowful looks would add 

gloom to a funeral.” 

“Ah!” exclaimed Ti Yin, with a sigh, “I have 
studied for years for the civil-service examination, 
and have undergone great hardship to attend it, only 
to find myself forced to withdraw before the deci¬ 
sion, for lack of money, and probably without having 


34 


SUCCESS. 


won a degree, so unfitted was I from hunger to do 
myself even scanty justice.” 

“Never mind,” said the waiter; “I will tell the 
innkeeper, who is a kind man, and he may find a 
way to aid you.” 

“ Yes,” said the landlord, when he had heard the 
story ; “ you shall be my assistant clerk until you can 
earn enough to proceed homeward in tolerable com¬ 
fort. So cheer up! Things are bad, but not so bad 
as they might be.” 

“ It is one of the strangest things that ever hap¬ 
pened,” Ti heard a guest remark a few days later; 
“when the highest degree of Chung Yuen was 
awarded at the examination, nearly a month ago, no 
one appeared to claim it, so the Emperor dispatched 
his special herald to. Quong Si, the home of the suc¬ 
cessful candidate, but he could not be found there, 
and the Emperor feels very anxious for his safety.” 

“ But what name, sir ? ” asked the astonished res¬ 
taurant clerk, in tones which attracted the attention 
of all. 

“What concern is that of yours, you young in¬ 
truder?” asked one of the aristocratic guests; “you 
seem to have a brotherly sympathy for the Em¬ 
peror’s anxiety.” 

“Ti Yin is the name of our new Imperial Council¬ 
lor,” said another guest, a little more civil than his 
fellows. “ Do you claim the honor of his acquaint¬ 
ance ? ” 

The young clerk withdrew modestly, without re¬ 
plying ; made himself as presentable as possible with 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


35 


scanty means; excused his departure to the inn¬ 
keeper, and hastened to report to the Department of 
Ceremonies. 

“ You cannot enter here,” said the guard. 

a But I have important business to attend to,” 
said Ti, “ and must have immediate audience with 
his Majesty, the Emperor.” 

“Begone!” shouted the guard, as he drove the 
ragged stranger from the gate; “ this is no place 
for vagrants.” 

Ti Yin soon returned and renewed his request for 
an audience, but was arrested and imprisoned as a 
dangerous character. He remained in confinement 
for some time, while without the whole Empire was 
in a ferment over the strange disappearance of the 
new “Chung Yuen,” who had not been seen dur¬ 
ing the month which had elapsed since the exami¬ 
nation. 

“ General! ” exclaimed one of the prison guards, 
addressing the jailer, “ I beg you to liberate this in¬ 
offensive stranger and allow him to go his way in 
peace; for,” he added, “my heart goes out to this 
man who, I feel sure, is more sinned against than 
sinning. I will pledge my life that he is not one to 
do evil.” 

“ Well,” said the jailer, after inquiring carefully 
into the matter, “ I am willing to order his release ; 
but first he must needs receive the corporal punish¬ 
ment due on account of his conviction for vagrancy 
and disturbing the peace.” 

“ Have I not borne humiliation enough ? ” cried Ti 


36 


SUCCESS. 


when he heard of this; “ tell your jailer that I, Ti 
Yin, am here basely confined, and that I command 
him to appear before me and in person loose these 
fetters from my limbs.” 

“ Oh ! my master,” began the kind-hearted guard, 
as he knelt and clasped the knees of his distinguished 
charge ; but at that moment the doors of the prison 
were thrown open, and his words were drowned by a 
laugh from the President of the Board of Cere¬ 
monies, who had just returned from an unsuccessful 
search for Ti Yin, and was overcome by the sight of 
an officer upon his knees before a prisoner. “ What 
is the meaning of all this?” he asked in surprise; 
but when he had heard the story, he hurriedly de¬ 
scended from his chair of state. 

“ Mayest thou, O master, live a thousand years! ” 
he exclaimed. 

“ Imagine the picture! ” exclaims a writer in 1lar¬ 
ger’s Magazine , — “ the still manacled prisoner ; the 
kneeling officers; the crowd of awe-struck onlookers; 
the death-like silence in that gloomy prison-room! 
Could there be imagined a greater tribute to know¬ 
ledge and education than was there expressed ? The 
physical power of a mighty nation doing homage to 
the intellectual power of an individual. Although 
trite, still is true the proverb that ‘knowledge is 
power.’ ” 

“ May I remove these disgraceful fetters from the 
limbs they profane ? ” at length asked a thoughtful 
member of the President’s suite. 

“No!” said Ti Yin, proudly and firmly; “he 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


37 


who put them on, and he alone, has the right to re¬ 
move them.” 

The jailer fell upon his knees, unlocked the mana¬ 
cles, and besought forgiveness for bringing disgrace 
upon so illustrious and noble a man. 

“ Rise,” said Ti Yin, and sternly added: “Never 
again act hastily in matters pertaining to the duties 
of your office, or render less willing aid to those 
appearing poor and helpless than to those whom you 
know to be both rich and powerful. It is the great¬ 
est wrong of all. The tears of the helpless and 
oppressed shall be garnered in heaven, and poured 
out in fiery vengeance upon the oppressor’s head, 
and her ears will refuse to listen to impious prayer. 
Go in peace.” 

It is hardly necessary to add that Ti Yin, second 
in rank to the Emperor, proved a wise and efficient 
Imperial Councillor. 

“Those who live,” said Victor Hugo, “are those 
who struggle; are those whose high resolves fill soul 
and eyes; who, urged by noble destiny, ascend the 
slopes.” 

“I once knew a little colored boy whose father 
and mother died when he was but six years old,” 
said Frederick Douglass, addressing a colored school 
not long before he died. “ He was a slave and had 
no one to care for him. He slept on a dirt floor in a 
hovel, and in cold weather he would crawl into a 
meal bag head foremost and leave his feet in the 
ashes to keep them warm. Often he would roast an 
ear of corn and eat it to satisfy his hunger, and 


38 


SUCCESS. 


many times he has crawled under the barn or stable 
and secured eggs which he would roast in the fire 
and eat. 

“ That boy did not wear pantaloons, as you do, 
but a tow-linen shirt. Schools were unknown to 
him, and he learned to spell from an old Webster’s 
spelling-book, and to read and write from posters on 
cellar and barn doors, while boys and men would 
help him. He would then preach and speak, and 
soon became well known. He became a presidential 
elector, United States Marshal, United States Re¬ 
corder, United States Diplomat, and accumulated 
some wealth. He wore broadcloth, and didn’t have 
to divide crumbs with the dogs under the table. 
That boy was Frederick Douglass. 

“ What was possible for me, is possible for you. 
Don’t think because you are colored, you can’t ac¬ 
complish anything. Strive earnestly to add to your 
knowledge. So long as you remain in ignorance, so 
long will you fail to command the respect of your 
fellow-men.” 

“ I learned grammar when I was a private soldier 
on the pay of sixpence a day,” writes William 
Cobbett. “ The edge of my berth, or that of the 
guard-bed, was my seat to study in ; my knapsack 
was my book-case; a bit of board lying on my lap 
was my writing-table, and the task did not demand 
anything like a year of my life. I had no money to 
purchase candle or oil; in winter, it was rarely that 
I could get any evening light but that of the fire, 
and only my turn even at that. To buy a pen or a 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


39 


sheet of paper, I was compelled to forego some 
portion of my food, though in a state of half-starva¬ 
tion. I had no moment of time that I could call my 
own ; and I had to read and write amidst the talking, 
laughing, singing, whistling, and bawling of at least 
half a score of the most thoughtless of men. I re¬ 
member, and well I may, that upon one occasion I 
had, after all absolutely necessary expenses, on a 
Friday, made shift to have a half-penny in reserve, 
which I had destined for the purchase of a red- 
herring in the morning ; but when I pulled off my 
clothes at night, so hungry then as to be hardly able 
to endure life, I found that I had lost my half-penny. 
I buried my head under the miserable sheet and rug, 
and cried like a child. 

“ If I,” said he, “ under such circumstances, could 
encounter and overcome this task, is there, can there 
be in the whole world, a youth to find any excuse 
for its non-performance ? ” 

Could there be a more striking example of the pur¬ 
suit of knowledge under difficulties? 

“ Never mind, father, blindness shall not interfere 
with my success in life/ 5 said the young law student, 
Ilenry Fawcett, when his father reproached himself 
for carelessly destroying all his son’s prospects of 
advancement. 

One pleasant day in 1858, the two had gone hunt¬ 
ing together. A flock of partridges flew over a fence 
where the father had no right to shoot; but as he 
was moving forward, they flew back toward his son. 
The father, so eager to bring down a bird that he 


40 


SUCCESS. 


did not think of his son’s danger, fired. Several 
shots entered Henry’s breast, and one went through 
each glass of a pair of spectacles he wore. In an 
instant he was stone blind for life. 

But within ten minutes from the time of the acci¬ 
dent, which deprived him of eyesight forever, this 
boy of iron nerve had determined that even blindness 
should not swerve him from his purpose. 

“ Will you read the newspaper to me ? ” were his 
first words to his sister when they carried him home. 

He was obliged to abandon law, but he began the 
study of Political Economy with a zeal rarely equaled; 
meanwhile having friends read to him, in his mo¬ 
ments of leisure, the works of Milton, Burke, Words¬ 
worth, all of George Eliot’s novels, and a wide course 
of general literature, for he was determined that his 
blindness should not limit the breadth of his culture. 

He became Professor of Political Economy at the 
University of Cambridge, a member of Parliament, 
and an unusually successful Postmaster General of 
England, as well as the author of several able books. 

Helen Keller, who, under the care of her friend and 
companion Miss Sullivan, made such marvelous prog¬ 
ress in her studies during the first nine years of con¬ 
scious intellectual life since her teacher first joined her, 
entered the regular classes at The Cambridge School 
for young ladies. The object of her friends in placing 
her among seeing and speaking girls was to develop 
her powers of self-guidance in greater degree than could 
have been possible under private tuition. Mr. Arthur 
Gilman, the director of the school, wished, when Miss 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


41 


Keller was first brought to him, to find out how great 
had been her progress in the different subjects which 
she had studied. To this end he gave her some of 
the preliminary Harvard examination papers, — the 
same papers which were presented to candidates at 
Harvard and Radcliffe colleges. Though she had 
never had any preparation for college examinations, 
in fact had never had examinations of any sort, she 
passed the papers submitted with great credit. The 
time allowed for each paper was precisely the same as 
that given at regular examinations, but the questions 
had of course to be read to Miss Keller, which made 
the time left for answering them considerably less. 
The answers were type-written in clear, precise Eng¬ 
lish, and with very few mistakes, either in spelling, 
punctuation, or subject-matter. The Harvard exam¬ 
iners to whom they were submitted agreed that, 
judged by the same standard by which they are 
accustomed to judge all papers, Miss Keller passed 
in every subject tried. These subjects were English, 
French, German, and history. Thus she passed five 
hours of Radcliffe’s elementary examinations; this, 
too, at the uncommonly early age of sixteen, after 
only nine years of conscious development. At the 
Cambridge School Miss Keller studied Latin, history, 
and arithmetic with the regular classes. Miss Sulli¬ 
van was with her constantly at school, and the two 
friends lived together at Howells House on Concord 
Avenue, one of the home buildings connected with the 
school. Miss Keller, a tall, bright-faced girl of six¬ 
teen, told her visitors, with evident pleasure, that she 


42 


SUCCESS. 


was preparing for Badcliffe. Professor Bell asserted 
that she spoke better than any other mute in this 
country. She was still very young for Badcliffe, 
and two or three years more would not make her 
older than most freshmen, though much more keen, 
intellectually, than any of them. She is very popular 
among her bright school friends, all of whom take 
great interest in her. 

She is affected by the mental condition of those 
about her, and can tell immediately on meeting a 
person whether that person is happy or unhappy. 
She bursts into speech the moment she is introduced 
to a stranger, her evident wish being to get from the 
new personality all that is interesting in it; at the 
same time her questions are not unpleasantly personal. 

Helen Keller was born in Alabama, June 27, 1880, 
her father being a former Confederate officer, and 
later a United States Marshal. No attempt at edu¬ 
cation was made for the first seven years of her ap¬ 
parently hopeless life. It was when about eighteen 
months old that she lost all senses but that of touch. 
In 1887, Miss Annie M. Sullivan went to Alabama 
and became her instructor. From that time, Miss 
Sullivan’s life was devoted to the work of Helen’s 
education. She had for a while the advantages of 
the Perkins Institution in South Boston. 

Three years later she had learned to articulate with 
a rapidity undreamed of by those who had to do with 
children in the full possession of all their faculties. 
In 1894 she was removed to the Wright-Humason 
School in New York, refusing to become an inmate 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


43 


of a school built in London and named after her. 
Soon after she became apt in interpreting the speech 
of others by feeling their lips, and now is able to 
communicate with any one within reach of her sen¬ 
sitive finger-tips. 

Those finger-tips, resting lightly on the lips of her 
friends, carry to Helen Keller’s mind the messages 
from the world in which she lives unseeing and un¬ 
hearing. Those fingers keep her in touch with the 
intellectual life of the world. She reads German, 
French, and English with her fingers resting on the 
raised letters of the books which have been published 
for her. She seems almost to have gray brain-matter 
in her finger-tips. 

If it has been possible for this girl—deaf, dumb, and 
blind — to make such wonderful progress in her edu¬ 
cation, and, at the age of sixteen, to be prepared to 
pass the Harvard College examinations, what might 
not some of the boys and girls who are blessed with 
all their faculties accomplish, though perhaps possess¬ 
ing only ordinary ability, if they could only realize the 
value of the gifts they have, instead of idling away 
their time, waiting and longing for genius to help 
them along! 

Years ago an English lady, who had a deaf and 
dumb daughter, read in the newspaper one morning 
that a professor, A. Graham Bell, in America, had 
invented a system of visible speech by which it was 
possible for the deaf and dumb to learn to speak. 
She told her husband that she was going to America. 
He laughed at her folly, for they were poor. Besides, 


44 


SUCCESS. 


what could she do with such a complicated system to 
assist her child ? But no impossibilities could dissuade 
her from her purpose. To America she went, found 
Professor Bell, learned the system, returned to Eng¬ 
land, and not only taught her daughter to speak and 
relieved her from a monotonous life of silence, but 
taught many other poor, English deaf-mutes to speak, 
thus bringing gladness, intelligence, and beauty into 
many a blighted life. 

James Watt’s career is full of romantic interest. 
“ A young man,” observes Sir Kobert Kane, “ want¬ 
ing to sell spectacles in London, petitions the corpo¬ 
ration to allow him to open a little shop without 
paying the fees of freedom, and he is refused. He 
goes to Glasgow, and the corporation refuses him 
there. He makes the acquaintance of some members 
of the University, who find him very intelligent, and 
permit him to open his shop within their walls. He 
does not sell spectacles and magic lanterns enough to 
occupy all his time; he occupies himself at intervals 
in taking apart and remaking all the machines he 
can obtain. He finds there are books on mechanics 
written in foreign languages; he borrows a diction¬ 
ary, and in his leisure hours learns those languages 
to read those books. The professors, as well as the 
students of the University, wonder at him, and are 
fond of dropping into his little room in the evenings to 
tell him what they are doing, and to look at the queer 
instruments he constructs. A machine in the Univer¬ 
sity collection wants repairing and he is employed. 
He makes it a new machine. The steam-engine is con- 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


45 


structed later, and the giant mind of Watt stands out 
before the world, — the author of the industrial su¬ 
premacy of his country, the herald of a new force in 
civilization. But Watt was educated ! Where was 
he educated ? At his own workshop and in the best 
manner. Watt learned Latin when he wanted it for 
his business. He learned French and German; but 
these things were tools, not ends. He used them to 
promote his engineering plans as he used lathes and 
levers. 

“All the inventions and improvements of recent 
times, if measured by their effects upon the condition 
of society, sink into insignificance when compared 
with the extraordinary results which have followed 
the employment of steam as a mechanical agent. To 
one individual, the illustrious James Watt, the merit 
and honor of having first rendered it extensively 
available for that purpose are pre-eminently due.” 

James Ferguson, the peasant boy, who acquired 
for himself the title of astronomer, fought his way 
somehow through the fields of knowledge, out of the 
wilds of Banffshire, got to London, and left a name 
which the world will not willingly let die. 

His biographer says that little James Ferguson had 
not the benefit of instruction at first hand; and it is 
curious to think of the rustic boy sitting, with round 
eyes intent, listening to phrases far above his under¬ 
standing, sounded forth in his father’s deep bass, or 
the unwilling gasps of his brother’s childish voice, to 
whom the gates of knowledge were thus painfully 
opened. 


46 


SUCCESS. 


That the child should have managed to pick up an 
acquaintance with printed characters in this way is 
strange enough; but Dogberry was nearer right 
than many suppose, when he said that reading and 
writing come by nature, and he might have added 
u spelling.” 

“ Ashamed to ask my father to instruct me,” he 
writes, “ I used, when he and my brother were abroad, 
to take the Catechism and study the lesson he was 
teaching my brother; and when any difficulty occurred 
I went to a neighboring old woman, who gave me 
such help as enabled me to read tolerably well before 
my father had thought of teaching me.” This was 
when the little chap, too shy to ask his father to 
teach him, was six years old. 

It was after this that he saw the wonderful mys¬ 
tery of the lever, which sent him to science after his 
alphabet. 

“ Some time after,” he goes on to say, “ father was 
agreeably surprised to find me reading by myself, 
and all my further instruction, after he taught me to 
write, consisted of three months at the Keith gram¬ 
mar school.” And it was no bad essay in the way 
of education, though, perhaps, not quite enough for 
a future Fellow of the Royal Society. 

Once, while he lay recovering from a sickness and 
unable to work, he made a clock on the only model 
he knew,—a wooden clock, with the neck of a broken 
bottle inserted for the bell on which the hours struck. 
He puzzled his brain to think how any other kind of 
time-keeping machine could be made, and how a 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


47 


watch could keep itself going in a man’s pocket, 
without weights or pendulum. 

One day a man rode by, and, thinking he might 
have a watch, James asked him the time. “ lie took 
out his watch,” said the boy, “ and told me with so 
much good nature that I begged him to show me the 
inside of it. Although a perfect stranger, he immedi¬ 
ately opened the watch and put it into iny hands.” 

Imagine the excitement, the eagerness, the awe, as 
he peeped into that turnip-case of wonders. A steel 
spring, was it? but James had never seen a spring 
but that of the lock of his father’s gun. The stranger 
good-naturedly explained all he could, and with 
the watch safe in his pocket rode away, smiling at 
the young rustic’s questions, pleased at the sense of 
having answered them very well. 

James went immediately to a nook where he kept 
his clippings, and set to work to make a watch. He 
constructed one in faithful observance of his chance 
informant’s illustration, with a mainspring of whale¬ 
bone and wooden wheels, enclosing the whole in a 
wooden box “very little bigger than a breakfast 
cup,” — a nice, serviceable size, though perhaps not 
adapted for the pocket. But alas! a clumsy neighbor, 
examining the prodigy, let it fall and set his heavy 
foot on it in his haste to pick it up. The father 
was enraged, and “ almost ready to beat the man ”; 
but James took the misfortune more peaceably. 

When a little boy he took great interest in watch¬ 
ing the stars. 

“In the evenings, when my work was over,” he 


48 


SUCCESS. 


says, “ I went into a field with a blanket about me, 
lay down on my back, and stretched a thread with 
small beads upon it at arm’s length between my eyes 
and the stars, sliding the beads upon it till they hid 
such and such stars from my eyes, in order to take 
their apparent distances from each other; and then 
laying the thread down on a paper, I marked the 
stars thereon by the beads, according to their respec¬ 
tive positions, having a candle by me.” 

Lincoln’s father could neither read nor write. The 
Bible and “ Pilgrim’s Progress ” were the only books 
the family possessed until they moved into Illinois, 
where young Abe cleared the trees and split rails 
for their little farm. He thought himself rich when 
able to add to their library Shakespeare, “ Robinson 
Crusoe,” and “The Life of Washington.” There is 
scarcely a poor boy in America to-day who does not 
have better opportunities than Abraham Lincoln, and 
there are grand opportunities for hundreds of thou¬ 
sands of boys like him. 

He asked to be made postmaster for the sake of 
reading all the papers that came to town. He read 
everything he could lay his hands on, the Bible, 
Shakespeare, “ Pilgrim’s Progress,” “ Life of Washing¬ 
ton,” “ Life of Franklin,” “Life of Henry Clay,” and 
Hlsop’s “ Fables.” He read them over and over again 
until he could almost repeat them by heart; but he 
never read a novel. His education came from the 
newspapers and from his contact with men and 
things. After he read a book he would write out an 
analysis of it. What a grand sight to see this long, 


EDUCATION UNDEli DIFFICULTIES. 


49 


lank, back-woods student lying before the fire in a log- 
cabin without floor or windows, after everybody else 
was abed, devouring books which he had walked 
many miles in the wilderness to borrow, but could 
not afford to buy! 

Thomas Erskine, whom Lord Campbell pronounces 
the greatest advocate and most consummate forensic 
orator that ever lived, began his legal career under 
many discouragements. Though he had a sublime 
self-confidence, which was itself almost a sure proph¬ 
ecy of success, yet he fought the battle of life for 
many years up hill and against many obstacles. His 
father’s means having been exhausted in educating 
his two elder brothers, he was obliged to start in life 
with but little training and a scanty stock of classi¬ 
cal learning. While pursuing his law studies, he 
found it hard, even with the strictest economy, to 
keep the wolf from the door. For several years he 
lived very economically, and was declared by Jeremy 
Bentham to be “so shabbily dressed as was quite 
remarkable.” Conscious, all the time, of powers that 
fitted him to adorn a larger sphere, he chafed against 
the iron circumstances that hemmed him in. A 
chance conversation led to his being employed as 
counsel in an important case. The effect produced 
by his speech was prodigious. He won a verdict for 
his client, and by a single bound, overleaping all 
barriers, passed from want to abundance, from the 
castle of Giant Despair to the Delectable Mountains. 
Entering Westminster Hall that morning a pauper, 
he left it prospectively a rich man. As he marched 


50 


SUCCESS. 


along the hall after the judges had risen, the attor¬ 
neys flocked around him with their briefs, and re¬ 
tainer fees rained upon him. From that time his 
business rapidly increased, until his annual income 
amounted to £12,000. 

Mozart’s father discovered his son composing some¬ 
thing which he called a “ concerto for the harpsi¬ 
chord,” and laughed at the work of the six-year-old 
child. 

As the little fellow insisted that it was really a 
concerto, the father examined it. The piece proved 
to have been written strictly by rule, although so 
overloaded with difficulties that it could not be 
played. 

The boy learned the violin, and continued to sur¬ 
prise not only his father, but also musical critics 
and learned musicians. In his thirteenth year, he 
gained a triumph so significant that the highest 
musical authority in the world, — the Philharmonic 
Academy of Bologna, — recognized him as a “Knight 
of Harmony.” Mr. W. S. B. Mathews, in his book, 
“ IIow to Understand Music,” tells the story of this 
triumph. 

Young Mozart applied for admission as a mem¬ 
ber of the academy, whose president was Father 
Martini, the learned contrapuntist, and whose vice- 
president was Farinelli, a great singer and an ac¬ 
complished musician. They and the other members 
of the academy recognized Mozart’s genius as a 
performer, but did not believe that a boy of thir¬ 
teen could pass the severe examination in com- 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


51 


posing music required of candidates for admission 
to membership. 

Father Martini regarded the boy with favor, but 
he was determined that the academy should not 
be suspected of admitting a boy because lie was an 
“ infant prodigy.” He therefore assigned to Mozart 
the hardest task ever given, —the composition for 
four voices of one of the canticles of the Koman 
Antiphonarium. Three hours alone in a locked 
room, with no helps but pen, ink, and paper, were 
allowed for the performance of the task. 

It was with severe misgivings, for he thought 
highly of the boy, that Father Martini delivered 
to the youngster the theme. In less than an hour 
the beadle announced that Mozart was ready to be 
let out, as he had completed the work assigned him. 

“ Impossible! ” exclaimed Father Martini. 

“In the hundred years the academy has been 
established, such a case has never occurred! ” said 
the members. 

The examiners went to the locked room, and 
received from Mozart the manuscript score written 
in a neat and delicate hand. They spent an hour 
in looking over the work, and then pronounced 
their verdict: “ It is perfect! absolutely fault¬ 
less ! ” Mozart was led into the presence of the 
waiting academicians to be greeted with hearty ap¬ 
plause, and recognized as a composer so skillful as 
to be worthy of membership. 

“ I am deaf,” said Beethoven ; “ in any other pro¬ 
fession this might be more tolerable, but in mine 


52 


SUCCESS. 


such a condition is truly frightful.” It was only 
high moral courage that made life endurable for 
him. Yet music, in this man, attained its highest 
expression. Handel, like Bach, sacrificed his eyes 
on the altar of music, dying blind. “I can say 
with truth that my life is very wretched,” said 
Beethoven. 

The power of a resolute purpose was illustrated 
in the Hebrew Professor at Cambridge, England, 
Dr. Lee. Educated at a charity school, he was so 
dull that the master could scarcely endure the sight 
of him. He was apprenticed to a carpenter, but 
spent every leisure hour reading. He was so curi¬ 
ous to know what the Latin quotations meant which 
he met that he bought a Latin Grammar, rose early, 
and sat up late that he might learn the language. 

Once, while working in a church, he noticed a 
Greek Testament, which he was so curious to learn 
to read that he sold his Latin books and bought a 
Greek Grammar and Lexicon. After he learned 
Greek, he sold his Greek books and bought He¬ 
brew. After he learned Hebrew, he sold those 
books and bought books in the Chaldee and Syriac 
languages. But the strain of his overwork nearly 
ruined his health and his eyes. His chest of car¬ 
penter’s tools was burned, and want stared his fam¬ 
ily in the face. He sold his books to buy bread. 
Too poor to buy more carpenter’s tools, the great 
linguist began to teach children their letters; but 
he was so deficient in elementary branches that he 
had to learn them as he went along. 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


53 


His reputation as the learned carpenter soon at¬ 
tracted attention, and he got the mastership of a 
charity school. From this he went onward and 
upward. Ho obstacle could daunt him, no oppo¬ 
sition stop him. He was elected Professor of He¬ 
brew and Arabic in Queen’s College, Cambridge. 
He became a very noted scholar, and translated 
the Bible into several Asiatic dialects. 

Fowell Buxton thought he could do as well as 
others could, if he devoted twice as much time and 
labor as they did. Ordinary means and extraordi¬ 
nary application have done most of the great things 
in the world. 

Half a century ago, the girls working in the 
Lowell mills gave one of the finest examples ever 
seen of “plain living and high thinking.” One of 
those girls wore out Watts’ “Improvement of the 
Mind,” by carrying it about in her working-dress 
pocket; others studied German in the evening, 
though their hours of labor were from daylight 
till half-past seven at night; they organized Im¬ 
provement Circles, and published a magazine or 
two. They were high-minded and refined, not 
afraid of drudgery, but determined to make their 
way to something beyond it. Many of them loved 
beauty and appreciated the sweep of the fair, blue 
Merrimac under the factory windows. In their 
homes, with all their frugality, the atmosphere 
was fragrant with peace and integrity. 

No material help that can be given to a girl 
forced to do hard work can equal such an example. 


54 


SUCCESS. 


Most of these factory girls succeeded in their hopes. 
They earned their education ; they became teachers, 
writers, artists; some married men of wealth and 
standing, and many of them now hold important 
positions in society. 

Miss Lucy Larcom, whose lovely “ New England 
Girlhood ” every girl should read, tells us that when 
she was working in a Lowell cotton factory at the 
age of thirteen or fourteen years, she obtained per¬ 
mission to tend some frames that stood directly in 
front of the windows looking off on the beautiful 
Merrimac River; and she made her window-seat 
into a small library of poetry,—pasting its sides 
all over with newspaper clippings. These she could 
look at and even learn by heart without interrupting 
her work. 

A century ago a poor boy was blacking boots 
for the Oxford University students. By untiring 
energy, he raised himself above his difficulties, step 
by step, until he became one of the greatest of 
preachers, — George Whitefield. 

Dr. Adam Clark was once a poor, barefoot Irish 
boy, who had such a thirst for knowledge that he 
would travel many miles for the privilege of perus¬ 
ing a coveted book which he could not afford to 
buy. 

Though Harriet Martineau was a poor girl, she 
was bound to use every minute of her spare time 
for self-improvement. She says: “I had a book 
in my pocket, a book under my pillow, and in my 
lap as I sat at meals. I devoured all Shakespeare 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


55 


sitting on a footstool and reading by the firelight. 
I made shirts, but it was with Goldsmith, Thomson, 
or Milton open on my lap under my work, or hid¬ 
den by the table, that I might learn pages and 
cantos by heart.” 

Dr. Rittenhouse was a joiner. His thirst for learn¬ 
ing was intense. He passed his nights in study, and 
committed to memory the few books he could lay his 
hands on. He covered the fences, the barn-doors, 
and loose shingles with diagrams. He mended the 
clocks of the poor, and repaired the rude machin¬ 
ery of the town. Alone and unaided he became 
an accurate surveyor, and by tireless study placed 
himself among the great mathematicians of the 
world. 

Garfield cut wood to pay for a term at school; 
became bell-ringer and sweeper-general in order to 
enjoy all the opportunities of Hiram College. He 
crowded six years hard study into three to get a 
collegiate education. 

Edward Everett said he admired and even vener¬ 
ated the resolute purpose and unswerving determina¬ 
tion of young Elihu Burritt, which enabled him to 
accomplish such wonders under such trying circum¬ 
stances. “ It is enough,” he said, “ for one who has 
good opportunities for education to hang his head 
in shame.” 

A glover’s apprentice of Glasgow, Scotland, was 
too poor to afford even a candle or a fire; he studied 
in the street by the light of the shop windows, and 
when the shops closed he would climb a lamp post, 


56 


SUCCESS. 


hold his book in one hand and hold on to the lamp 
post with the other. This poor boy, with less chance 
than almost any boy in America, in spite of his pov¬ 
erty and hardships which would have disheartened 
most boys, became the most eminent scholar of his 
country. 

“That boy will beat me one day,” said an old 
painter as he watched a little fellow named Michael 
Angelo making drawings of pot and brushes, easel 
and stool, and other articles in the studio. The bare¬ 
foot boy did persevere until he had overcome every 
difficulty and become the greatest master of art the 
world has known. 

Although Michael Angelo made himself immortal 
in three different occupations, — and his fame might 
well rest upon his dome of St. Peter as an architect, 
upon his “ Moses ” as a sculptor, or upon his “ Last 
Judgment” as a painter, — yet we find by his corre¬ 
spondence, now in the British Museum, that when 
he was at work on his colossal bronze statue of Pope 
Julius II., he was so poor that he could not have 
his younger brother come to visit him at Bologna, 
because he had but one bed in which he and three 
of his assistants slept together. 

Among the companions of Reynolds, while he was 
studying his art at Borne, was a fellow-pupil of the 
name of Astley. They made an excursion, with 
some others, on a sultry day, and all except Astley 
took off their coats. After several taunts he was 
persuaded to do the same, and displayed on the back 
of his waistcoat a foaming waterfall. Distress had 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


57 


compelled him to patch his clothes with one of his 
own landscapes. 

Murillo’s mother had marked her boy for a priest, 
but nature had already laid her hand upon him and 
marked him for her own. His mother was shocked 
on returning from church one day to find the child 
had taken down the sacred family picture, “Jesus 
and the Lamb,” and had painted his own hat on the 
Savior’s head, and had changed the lamb to a dog. 

The poor boy’s home was broken up, and he started 
out on foot and alone to seek his fortune. All he 
had was courage and determination to make some¬ 
thing of himself. He not only became a famous 
artist, but a man of great character. He was too 
great for the little hates and jealousies which char¬ 
acterized his profession, and was always a friend to 
the poor and unfortunate. 

In 1874 a poor youth with a broad, Scotch brogue 
was working in a machine-shop in South Boston. As 
he learned more of our language and caught the 
spirit of American institutions, he began to crave an 
education. But how could he get it in a strange 
land, with no money excepting what he earned, and 
with but little knowledge of the language spoken 
around him ? What could he do towards getting a 
liberal education ? 

But the Scotch find a way or make one. He went 
to a Presbyterian clergyman and told him how he 
longed for an education, but that he did not know 
how to get it. He said he was anxious to go to 
college, but it seemed impossible. The good man 


58 


SUCCESS. 


told him that he had only a small salary himself, but 
he would give him what he could of it to help him 
to an education. 

Most boys under the circumstances would have 
remained in ignorance, on a level with their fellows 
in the machine-shop. A college education might 
seem impossible to those about him who thought he 
was foolish to attempt the impossible, but not so to 
him. There was something within him which urged 
him on and bade him make the most of himself. 
With the help of the good minister he fitted for 
college, graduated from Harvard with honors, and 
became pastor of the largest Congregational church 
in New England, the New Old South. Indeed, per¬ 
haps, Dr. G. A. Gordon is the leading Congregation- 
alist of New England. 

How foolish his struggles to get an education 
seemed to his associates! What folly to deprive 
himself of evening and holiday pleasures which his 
friends enjoyed ; but many of these same friends are 
still in the machine-shop, filling only ordinary situa¬ 
tions. 

Horace Mann, founder of the common-school sys¬ 
tem of Massachusetts, was a remarkable example of 
a resolute soul pushing his way up through every 
obstacle to a definite goal. A college education was 
the dream of his youth. He was obliged to braid 
straw to earn his school books, but could only go to 
school eight or ten weeks in the year; yet his un¬ 
bounded thirst for knowledge overcame all obstacles, 
and we soon find him in Brown University. 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


59 


He was very, very poor, and most boys would 
have given up before they would have economized 
as did this resolute youth. “Work,” he said, u has 
always been to me what water is to a fish.” “ If the 
children of Israel,” he wrote home, “ were pressed 
for ‘gear’ half as hard as I have been, I don’t won¬ 
der they worshiped the golden calf. It’s a long, 
long time since my last ninepence bid good-by to its 
brethren. I believe in the rugged nursing of toil, 
but she nursed me too much.” Mann succeeded 
J. Q. Adams in Congress, where Henry Wilson said 
of him, “He made one of the most brilliant speeches 
for liberty that ever fell from human lips in our 
own or any other country.” He was nominated for 
Governor of Massachusetts, but on the same day was 
elected President of Antioch College. He accepted 
the presidency, and filled it with marked zeal and 
ability until his death. 

The young German boy, Jean Paul Richter, 
thought it a great boon to be allowed to copy books 
he never expected to be able to buy, from his good 
pastor. He copied, every bit of time he could get, 
for four long years, until he had quite a fine library 
of his own. How can you keep such a boy from 
success ? 

Paul determined to go to college at Leipzig. He 
had no money and no friends there, yet he hoped to 
get a chance to teach, but alas! many other poor boys 
were there for the same purpose. lie was not only 
very poor and scantily dressed, but he was very timid 
and did not know what to do. lie wrote his mother, 


60 


SUCCESS. 


“ I cannot freeze, but where shall I get wood without 
money.” The poor mother was also in debt, yet she 
managed, as mothers always do, to get a little now 
and then for her boy. He wrote her that if she would 
send him $8 he would ask for no more. Young 
Paul was all this time writing a book, “Eulogy 
of Stupidity,” which his young enthusiasm had mag¬ 
nified into a fortune. He sent it to a publisher, but 
waited and waited months in vain. It was returned, 
finally, and poor Paul, discouraged, tried to get an¬ 
other publisher. 

He spent six months writing another book, “ Green¬ 
land.” He had gained courage with defeat, and now 
went personally with his precious roll to every pub¬ 
lisher in Leipzig, but all refused it. He sent it to 
Yass of Berlin. One day, when he was hungry and 
cold, for he had no fire, a letter came from Yass 
offering him $70 for the manuscript. It was a great 
day for the struggling boy of nineteen. But his 
second and third volumes were not wanted. Pub¬ 
lishers finally refused all he wrote. He must give 
up college or starve. He had found fame a hard 
ladder to climb. He could not pay his board and 
rent and could not starve, so he stole away in the 
night and went to his mother. But his Leipzig 
boarding mistress followed him on foot clear to his 
home. He found a friend to go surety for his debt, 
put a little desk in his mother’s room where she and 
all her children lived and did all their work, and where 
she, by spinning far into the night, earned bread for 
the dear ones, — but where they nearly starved. 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


61 


But Richter wrote: “What is poverty that man 
should whine under it? It is but like the pain of 
piercing the ears of a maiden and you hang precious 
jewels in the wound.” At length the disheartened, 
though ever cheerful youth made a hit in his novel, 
“ The Invisible Lodge.” He got $226 for it, and 
hastened to his mother with $70. It was a proud 
day. Everybody talked about the wonderful novel 
and the poor boy was on the road to fame. 

Letters of congratulation poured in from the great. 
One admirer sent $50 in Prussian money. He was 
invited to Court to visit such men as Goethe and 
Schiller. Now thirty-four, he wrote his mother: “ I 
have lived twenty years in Weimar in a few days. 
I am happy, wholly happy, not merely beyond all 
expectation, but beyond all description.” His mother 
died, and he found in the house the paper on which 
she had kept the record of her scanty earnings by 
spinning into the midnight hours. He carried it next 
Ins heart as long as he lived. “Titan,” his master¬ 
piece, took the literary world by storm, and was a 
great success. One hundred volumes and a noble, 
manly life were Richter’s legacy to the world. 

“Can I afford to go to college?” asks many an 
American youth who has hardly a dollar to his name 
and who knows that a college course means years of 
sacrifice and struggle. 

It seems a great hardship, indeed, for a young man 
with an ambition to do something in the world to 
be compelled to pay his own way through school 
and college. But history shows us that the men 


62 


SUCCESS. 


who have led in the van of human progress have 
been, as a rule, self-educated, self-made. Here is a 
noble group of self-educated men : Benjamin Frank¬ 
lin, George Washington, Watt, Stephenson, Shake¬ 
speare, Byron, Whittier, Garibaldi, Lincoln, Greeley, 
Dickens, Edison. 

Here is a remarkable group of college men : Tenny¬ 
son, Lowell, Holmes, Emerson, Longfellow, Beecher, 
Webster, Charles Kingsley, Ruskin, Bismarck, Dar¬ 
win, Thomas Arnold, Shelley, Froebel, Gibbon, Jef¬ 
ferson, Hamilton, and Hewton. 

When Lincoln was on his way to Washington before 
his first inauguration, Rutgers College was pointed 
out to him as they passed it, and he exclaimed : 

“ Ah ! that is what I have always regretted, — the 
want of a college education. Those who have it 
should thank God for it.” 

The average boy of to-day who wishes to obtain „ 
a liberal education has a better chance by a hundred¬ 
fold than had Daniel Webster or Janies A. Garfield. 
Scarcely one in good health who reads these lines 
but can be assured that, if he will, he may. Here, as 
elsewhere, the will can usually make the way, and 
never before were there so many avenues of resource 
open to the strong will, the inflexible purpose, as 
there are to-day, — at this hour and this moment. 

If your parents are so situated that they can dis¬ 
pense with your help for four years, and give you a 
little pecuniary aid ; if your health is good enough 
to endure the strain ; if your previous education has 
fitted you to pass the entrance examination, you owe 



THOMAS ALVA EDISON. 

“Perhaps not a single youth will read this book who has not as good an 
opportunity for success as had the newsboy ‘ who kept the path to the Patent 
Office hot with his footsteps.’” 

































































































EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


63 


it to yourself and to those who may some day be 
dependent upon you to enter upon a college career; 
for, if you improve all your opportunities both for 
study and for earning money, you can probably com¬ 
plete the course with credit. 

Circumstances have rarely favored great men. A 
lowly beginning is no bar to a great career. The 
boy who works his way through college may have a 
hard time of it, but he will learn how to work his 
way in life, and will usually take higher rank in 
school and in after life than his classmate who is 
the son of a millionaire. It is the son and daughter 
of the farmer, the mechanic and the operative, the 
great average class of our country, whose funds are 
small and opportunities few, that the Republic will 
depend on most for good citizenship and brains in 
the future. The problem of securing a good educa¬ 
tion, where means are limited and time short, is of 
great importance both to the individual and the 
nation. Encouragement and useful hints are offered 
by the experience of many bright young people 
who have worked their way to diplomas worthily 
bestowed. 

“ If a man empties his purse into his head,” says 
Franklin, “ no man can take it away from him. An in¬ 
vestment in knowledge always pays the best interest.” 

Dr. Vincent said, “ If I wanted to educate my boy 
for a blacksmith, I should first send him to college.” 

“ I entered college with $8.42 in my pocket,” writes 
a graduate of Amherst. “ During the year I earned 
$60; received from the college a scholarship of $60, 


SUCCESS. 


64 

and an additional gift of $20 ; borrowed $190. My 
current expenses during Freshman year were $4.50 
per week. Besides this I spent $10.55 for books; 
$23.45 for clothing; $10.57 for voluntary subscrip¬ 
tions; $15 for railroad fares; $8.24 for sundries. 

“ During the next summer I earned $100. I waited 
on table at a $4 boarding-house all of Sophomore 
year, and earned half board, retaining my old room 
at $1 per week. The expenses of Sophomore year 
were $394.50. I earned during the year, including 
board, $87.20; received a scholarship of $70, and 
gifts amounting to $12.50, and borrowed $150, with 
all of which I just covered expenses. 

“ In Junior year I engaged a nice furnished room 
at $60 per year, which I agreed to pay for by work 
about the house. By clerical work, etc., I earned 
$37; also earned full board waiting upon table; re¬ 
ceived $70 for a scholarship; $55 from gifts; bor¬ 
rowed $70, which squared my accounts for the year, 
excepting $40 due on tuition. The expenses for the 
year, including, of course, the full value of board, 
room, and tuition, were $478.76. 

“During the following summer I earned $40. 
Throughout Senior year I retained the same room, 
under the same conditions as the previous year. I 
waited on table all the year, and received full board; 
earned by clerical work, tutoring, etc., $40 ; borrowed 
$40; secured a scholarship of $70 ; took a prize of 
$25 ; received a gift of $35. The expenses of Senior 
year, $496.64, were necessarily heavier than those 
of previous years. But having secured a good posi- 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


65 


tion as teacher for the coming year, I was per¬ 
mitted to give my note for the amount I could not 
raise, and so was enabled to graduate without financial 
embarrassment. 

“ The total expense for the course was about $1708 ; 
of which (counting scholarships as earnings), I earned 
$1157.” 

For four years Richard Weil was noted as the 
great prize-winner of Columbia College, and for 
“ turning his time, attention, and energy to any work 
that would bring remuneration.” He would do any 
honest work that would bring cash; and every 
cent of this money, as well as every hour not spent in 
sleep throughout the four years of his college course, 
was devoted to getting his education. 

The president of the class of 1896 at Columbia 
College earned the money to pay for his course by 
selling agricultural implements. One of his classmates, 
by the savings of two years’ work as a farm laborer, 
returns from farm work during vacation, and money 
earned by tutoring, writing and copying done after 
study hours, not only paid his way through college, 
but helped to support his aged parents. He be¬ 
lieved that he could afford a college training and he 
got it. 

Twenty-five of the young men graduated at Yale in 
1896 paid their way entirely throughout their courses. 
It seemed as if they left no avenue for earning 
money untried. Tutoring, copying, newspaper work, 
and positions as clerks were well-occupied fields; 
and painters, drummers, founders, machinists, bicycle 


66 


SUCCESS. 


agents and mail carriers were numbered among the 
twenty-five. 

A Harvard Senior of 1896, called “ the most sub¬ 
stantial man in his class,” worked his way through 
college by various means. A classmate, Newton 
Henry Black, not only supported himself, but com¬ 
pleted the four years’ course in three. 

At Williams College thirty-four of the sixty-four 
men graduated in 1896 had trusted entirely to their 
own exertions for four earnest, hard-working years, 
with the exception of aid received from scholar¬ 
ships. 

A great many students have worked their way 
through Boston University by doing all sorts of 
work, such as canvassing, working as brakemen on 
trains in summer, tutoring, teaching in night schools, 
working in offices, and keeping books in the evening 
for various firms, waiting on table in summer hotels, 
working on farms, etc. Many girls, also, have worked 
their way through the various departments with 
scarcely any assistance. 

When I was at the University, there was a poor 
colored boy working his way through the law school 
without assistance. So poor was he that he could 
not afford a room, and he slept on the benches in 
the law library. Yet most of the poor students will 
make far more of their abilities than the sons and 
daughters of rich fathers, to many of whom a college 
education is a mere matter of course. 

All these and many more from the ranks of the 
bright and well-trained young men who were gradu- 


EDUCATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 


67 


ated from the colleges and universities of the country, 
in 1896, believed — sincerely, doggedly believed — 
that a college training was something that they must 
have. The question of whether or not they could 
afford it does not appear to have occasioned much 
hesitancy on their part. It is evident that they did 
not for one instant think that they could not afford 
to go to college. 

The actual expenses of a college course need not 
be as great as is often supposed. Furthermore, scholar¬ 
ships at the leading universities were never before so 
numerous and generous as now. The average 
minimum cost for four years at college is variously 
estimated at from $1500 to $2000 or more, but the 
spending capacity of many a young man who was 
graduated in 1896 had for four years been accurately 
determined by his earning capacity. Not less than 
one thousand of these graduates, it is estimated, 
were young men who, four years before, did not know 
where their first half-year’s expenses were to come 
from. 

The lowest amount spent by any member of the 
class of 1896 at Yale for a single year was $100. 
The accurate cash account of another man showed 
that during the four years he had spent just $641. 

The average yearly expenses of the class of 1896 
at Princeton was $698.78. The minimum expendi¬ 
ture was $195. Seventeen men of the class supported 
themselves entirely during their course, and forty-six 
partially. 

Every young man or woman should weigh the 


68 


SUCCESS. 


matter well before concluding that a college educa¬ 
tion is out of the question. 

Knowledge is power. 

There is no knowledge that is not power. — Emerson. 

A little learning is a dangerous thing: 

Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring. — Pope. 


Note. — The following remarkable instance of the pursuit of 
knowledge under difficulties came to us after the chapter was in 
type, but is too good to omit. 

A student named Borysik has recently passed the final exami¬ 
nations at Warsaw University, qualifying him to practice as a 
Doctor of Medicine in Russia. lie was born in 1822, and his 
early education had a view to the medical profession, but lack of 
money prevented his going further than the preparatory school. 
He then worked twenty years, tutoring in order to save money 
enough to continue his studies ; at the end of which period he pre¬ 
sented himself at the Warsaw Medical Academy and passed the 
entrance examinations with honor. The Polish Revolution broke 
out, and he, at the age of forty-one, threw himself into the warfare 
with all the ardor of a youth. With the suppression of the revolt 
he was exiled to Siberia, where he put in thirty-two years of hard 
labor in the silver mines. 

In 1895 he was pardoned fully and returned to Warsaw, where, 
in spite of his age and the hardships he had undergone, he enthu¬ 
siastically took up his studies where he had left them off in 1863. 

After a two years’ course this remarkable man is now, at the 
age of seventy-five, graduated with honors and will begin to prac¬ 
tice in Warsaw. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE GAME OF THE WORLD. 

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!. 

Bright and yellow, hard and cold, 

Molten, graven, hammered, and rolled; 

Heavy to get and light to hold ; 

Hoarded, bartered, squandered, doled; 

Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old 

To the very verge of the churchyard mold: 

Price of many a crime untold. — Hood. 

This idol gold can boast of two peculiarities; it is worshiped in all 
climates without a single temple, and by all classes without a single 
hypocrite. — Colton. 

Believe not much them that seem to despise riches, for they despise 
them that despair of them. — Bacon. 

This mournful truth is everywhere confess’d, 

Slow rises worth by poverty depress’d. — Dr. Johnson. 

He that wants money, means, and content is without three good 
friends. — Shakespeare. 

Nor is there on earth a more powerful advocate for vice than 
poverty. — Goldsmith. 

Poverty wants much; but avarice, everything. — Syrus. 

To have what we want is riches; but to be able to do without it is 
power. — George Macdonald. 

Without a rich heart wealth is an ugly beggar. — Emerson. 

Wealth is the least trustworthy of anchors. — J. G. Holland. 

Can gold calm passion, or make reason shine? 

Can we dig peace, or wisdom, from the mine?— Young. 

The great satisfaction coming from wealth is a consciousness of 
power. Besides this, it opens up the way to a higher delight, meeting 
one’s desires for education and art. The crowning joy of wealth is in 
the service of society and of mankind. — R. Heber Neioton. 

“Why, Mr. Lincoln, what is the matter with the 
boys?” asked a neighbor in surprise, seeing the 
great man striding by with two boys, both of whom 
were wailing aloud. 

“Just what is the matter with the whole world,” 


70 


SUCCESS. 


replied Lincoln ; “I’ve got three walnuts, and each 
wants two.” 

“ All the toys which infatuate men and which they 
play for,” says Emerson, — “land, money, luxury, 
power, fame, — are the self-same thing, with a gauze 
or two of illusion overlaid.” 

A poor soldier boy was lying one day on his hos¬ 
pital pillow, when he turned to a friend beside him, 
and asked if he would not lend him a quarter of a 
dollar. The other asked if there was anything 
he needed, any luxury he craved that was not sup¬ 
plied; but he answered, “No; I have everything I 
wish,” but finally admitted with reluctance, “ a fel¬ 
low does feel so mean without a cent in his pocket.” 

A poor woman on going to the seashore for the 
first time, after gazing for a long time on the limit¬ 
less expanse, said she was glad, for once in her life, 
to see something there was enough of. But who 
ever saw the man who had money enough ? 

When Rothschild heard that the head of the Arrnade 
family was dead, “How much does he leave?” he 
asked. “ Twenty millions.” “You mean eighty?” 
“No, twenty.” “ Dear me, I thought he was in easy 
circumstances,” remarked the modern Croesus. 

In ancient Greece men lived in tubs, and considered 
tub life vastly superior to town life. In the Middle 
Ages wealth was looked upon as criminal and even 
contemptible. The Greeks and Romans mocked the 
men of mere wealth. A purse around the neck led to 
certain comdemnation in Dante’s Inferno. Even the 
North American Indians considered it unbecoming 

o 


THE GAME OF THE WORLD. 


71 


for a chief to be rich, and he was often one of the 
poorest in the tribe. In Thomas Moore’s “Utopia,” 
gold was despised. Criminals were forced to wear 
heavy chains of it and to have rings of it in their 
ears; it was put to the vilest uses to keep up the 
scorn of it. Bad characters were compelled to wear 
gold head-bands. Diamonds and pearls were used 
to decorate infants, so the youth would discard and 
despise it. 

But to-day no one worships the Goddess of Poverty. 
Fanatics may pile up their anathemas against the 
accumulation of wealth, and the clergy may denounce 
it, yet the most eloquent sermon in praise of poverty 
provokes but a smile. “ Poverty is a condition which 
no man should choose, unless forced upon him as an 
inexorable necessity, or as the alternative of dishonor. 
To cry out against this universal craving and strug¬ 
gling for the good things of this world, for which 
money is a synonym, is to waste our breath upon 
the air.” 

Say what men may, money is the appetizing pro¬ 
vocative that teases the business nerve of the world. 
The want of money is a power strong enough to keep 
things in their places. It is one of the great princi¬ 
ples of moral gravitation. 

I wish I could fill every young man who reads these 
pages with an utter dread and horror of poverty. 
I wish I could make you so feel its shame, its con¬ 
straint, its bitterness, that you would make vows 
against it. 

As nature could only secure her great end of per- 


72 


SUCCESS. 


petuating the race, by overloading the ardor of love, 
even to the point of possible perversion and danger 
to society, so she could only make civilization possi¬ 
ble by overloading the passion for money, power, and 
achievement, even to the point of possible ruin to 
many. In this universal desire to gratify selfish 
instincts, she hides her own end of perpetual progress 
to the race. Each individual is struggling to attain 
his own ends, but she turns all this to the benefit of 
mankind. Each, striving to excel his neighbor, to 
do the best for himself, contributes to the best result 
for all. Without this tremendous passion for power, 
influence, and advantage which money gives, how 
could nature develop the highest type of man? With¬ 
out this infinite longing, whence would come the 
discipline which industry, perseverance, tact, sagac¬ 
ity, and frugality give? Whence would come the 
motive for high daring, self-sacrifice, and deprivation 
without which great character is impossible? 

What will man not undertake to satisfy this all- 
absorbing passion? For money, men can always be 
found for the most dangerous and hazardous under¬ 
takings ; to engage in occupations that kill both soul 
and body ; at employments that will commit suicide 
upon years of their lives. But blot out this universal 
passion, this social gravitation of civilization, which 
holds each man in his orbit, and the world would 
rush back to chaos. The lever which moves the 
world would be broken and civilization would cease. 
Condemn it how we will, the highest civilization is 
reached where this passion to possess is strongest. 
















































































































































































































































































































































* 












































- 
















































































































V 



GEORGE PEABODY. 

“ The crowning joy of wealth is found in the service of mankind.” 






THE GAME OF THE WORLD. 


73 


As Emerson says, “ It is mean, low, huckstering 
trade, that has been the great world developer, the 
great civilization lifter.’ , It is very difficult for the 
rich to be so selfish that the poor cannot enjoy their 
wealth, for whether they rear it into architecture or 
put it into elegant carriages and liveries, whether 
they spend it in costly banquets or dainty fabrics, rare 
diamonds and precious stones, build costly churches, 
elegant yachts, summer residences or city palaces, 
however they may spend it or use it, thousands of 
others will see it, enjoy it, and carry away with their 
eyes a large share of the real value. 

“There are men born with a genius for money¬ 
making,” says Mathews. “ They have the instinct 
of accumulation. The talent and the inclination to 
convert dollars into doubloons by bargains or shrewd 
investments are in them just as strongly marked and 
as uncontrollable as were the ability and the inclina¬ 
tion of Shakespeare to produce Hamlet and Othello, 
of Raphael to paint his cartoons, of Beethoven to 
compose his symphonies, or Morse to invent an elec¬ 
tric telegraph. As it would have been a gross dere¬ 
liction of duty, a shameful perversion of gifts, had 
these latter disregarded the instincts of their genius 
and engaged in the scramble for wealth, so would a 
Rothschild, an Astor, and a Peabody have sinned 
had they done violence to their natures, and thrown 
their energies into channels where they would have 
proved dwarfs and not giants.” 

Everybody is struggling for the good things of the 
world, and all arguments to prove that they are not 


74 


SUCCESS. 


desirable are worse than wasted. It has been truly 
said that the heraldry of America is based on green¬ 
backs. The social standing is indicated by the bank¬ 
book. The railway conductor accents his call, the 
hotel clerk assigns rooms, the dry-goods merchant 
graduates the angle of his bows by it. Even the 
seat to which the sexton bows you in church is too 
often chosen with nice reference to your exchequer. 

The respect that attends wealth is as old as the 
Bible, which says, “If a man come into your as¬ 
sembly with a gold ring and goodly apparel, and 
there come in also a poor man in vile apparel, and ye 
have respect to him that weareth the gay clothing, 
and say unto him, ‘ Sit thou here in a good place’; 
and say to the poor, ‘ Stand thou there,’ are ye not 
partial ? ” 

Fancy may please itself with a dream of inevitable 
compensations which make the milkmaid more happy 
than the countess, and the man whose thoughts have 
never strayed beyond his few paternal acres a finer 
impersonation of well-being than his schoolfellow 
who has brought the world to his feet; but it is only 
a superficial and conventional fancy which indulges 
in such thoughts, and we are all very well aware 
that, as a matter of fact, the virtuous peasant is no 
more, but generally much less, exempt from the 
troubles of life than the rich man who has found a 
way for himself out of his native lowliness. And 
there are probably fewer drawbacks in the career of 
the man who attains great wealth than of any other 
self-made individual. 


THE GAME OF THE WORLD. 


75 


More men are ruined by under estimating the 
value of money than by over-estimating it. 

Let us, then, abandon the affectation of despising 
money, and frankly own its value. Let us even 
admit that more persons are ruined by under-estima¬ 
tion of the value than by greed of gold; that even 
in our great cities, where life is at white heat, and 
men stake body and soul on the prizes of the stock- 
board, there are twenty men who need incitements 
to industry and frugality, where there is one who 
needs to be checked in the fierce pursuit of riches. 

Under the law of Henry YIII., destitution was 
treated as a crime, and wandering poverty was to be 
stocked and scourged out of existence. 

The time has gone by when either love is satisfied 
to live in “ a cot beside the hill,” or a philosopher 
in a tub. Both prefer to possess a house in a city 
street and a cottage by the sea, which is a sign that 
both the philosophy of love and the love of philoso¬ 
phy have improved. 

It was a shrewd observer who said, that if you could 
not get what you wanted, to get money was always 
the next best. It cannot buy happiness, but it can 
purchase more in the way of those substitutes for 
happiness which most of us manage to exist by than 
almost anything else. 

Never before in the history of the world was 
poverty so hard to bear as to-day, when life has 
grown so rich in possibilities and grand opportuni¬ 
ties. While we would not go so far as Carlyle, who 
said that “ poverty is the hell of which most modern 


76 


SUCCESS. 


Englishmen are most afraid,” or as Henry George, 
who said that “ poverty is the open-mouthed hell 
which yawns beneath civilization,” we would teach 
that, in this land of opportunity, for the average 
man or woman to live in continual poverty is a 
disgrace. 

“ Among the poor there is less vital force, a lower 
tone of life, more ill health, more weakness, more 
early deaths.” 

Without independence no one can be a man. Ho 
man can do his best work who feels want tugging at 
his heels, who is hampered and tied down and for¬ 
ever at the mercy of circumstances, or of those upon 
whom he depends for employment. What can be 
more humiliating for a young man or woman than 
the sense of being but a day’s march ahead of want ? 

Ho young man has the right to remain in a position, 
if it is possible to get out of it, where he will be con¬ 
stantly subjected to the great temptations of pov¬ 
erty. His self-respect demands that he should get 
out of it. It is his duty to put himself in a position 
of dignity and independence, where he will not be 
liable at any moment to be a burden to his friends 
in case of sickness or other emergencies. 

The hunger of man for riches has reduced chaos 
to order, forests to gardens. 

The pursuit of wealth, say what men may, is not 
only legitimate, but a duty. If a man is a man and 
his fortune be legitimately won, it will increase his 
influence and multiply his power. This struggle to 
attain wealth, if he is careful to guard against its 


THE GAME OF THE WORLD. 


77 


narrowing, demoralizing, and dwarfing influences, 
will develop his intelligence, his skill, his energy, 
his thrift, his sagacity ; will improve his judgment, 
increase his practical knowledge, and train his moral 
and intellectual powers to a high cultivation. “ The 
soul is trained by the ledger as much as by the cal¬ 
culus, and can get exercise in account of sales as 
much as in the account of stars.” The business 
man, if he is methodical, is put constantly upon his 
thoughtfulness; his reserve force is constantly brought 
Tnto play, and he is ever massing his forces upon the 
enemy’s weakest point, as did Napoleon his army. 
He is in a perpetual drill from morning till night, if 
he is a good business man. His powers are ever on 
dress parade. 

A good business man must be systematic, orderly, 
prompt, exact, courteous, considerate, both to those 
under him and to his patrons; he is constantly in 
a school of manners; his calculations for profit every 
day bring him into a mathematical drill; he is con¬ 
stantly put on his good behavior, and if he is a broad- 
gauge business man, liberal and magnanimous, and 
does not allow his business to narrow and contract 
him, he will constantly improve his manhood, will 
grow broader, his sympathies deeper, his charities 
larger. 

When Mr. Lincoln visited New York and met an 
old friend, the latter asked how he had prospered. 
The friend said he had made $100,000 and lost it all, 
and asked Mr. Lincoln how he had succeeded. “ Oh, 
very well,” was the reply; “ I have the cottage at 


78 


SUCCESS. 


Springfield, and about $3000 in money. If they 
make me Vice-President with Seward, as some say 
they will, I hope to increase it to $20,000, and that 
is as much as any man ought to want.” 

General Garfield had more money a few days 
after his nomination than he ever had before in 
his life. lie reached Cleveland from the Chicago 
Convention with just $30 in his pocket. That rep¬ 
resented all the wealth he had except his mort¬ 
gaged home at Mentor. Knowing this circumstance, 
Mr. Sylvester T. Everett, the well-known Cleveland 
banker in whose house lie was a guest, started out 
one morning with a little subscription paper, and 
came back with ten $1000 checks, one of which bore 
his own signature. lie arranged a bank-book with 
a package of blank checks, put them in an envelope, 
and at the first opportunity handed the package to 
Garfield, with the remark that there was a little pin 
money for his personal expenses during the cam¬ 
paign, and an explanation that not a penny of it was 
to be spent for political purposes. 

When the General realized the amount and nature 
of the gift, he fell upon Everett’s neck and wept like 
a child. He said that the greatest load he had to 
bear had been taken from him, for he had been lving 
awake nights, wondering how he was going to meet 
his personal expenses during the campaign. He said, 
too, that he had never had so much money before. 

The want of money is, in intellectual pursuits, the 
most common hindrance to thoroughness and excel¬ 
lence of work. 


THE GAME OF THE WORLD. 


79 


I do not know of anything much more painful 
than to have a fine taste for painting, sculpture, 
music, glorious sunsets, and the expanse of the blue 
sky, and yet not to be able to get the dollar for the 
oratorio, or to get a picture, or to pay one’s way into 
the country to look at the setting sun and at the 
bright heavens. While there are men in great afflu¬ 
ence who have around them all kinds of luxuries in art, 
themselves entirely unable to appreciate these luxu¬ 
ries,— buying their books by the square foot, their 
pictures sent to them by some artist who is glad to 
get the miserable daubs out of the studio, — there 
are multitudes of refined, delicate women who are 
born artists and shall reign in the kingdom of heaven 
as artists, who are denied every picture, every sweet, 
musical instrument. 

How many } 7 oung spirits we see prematurely de¬ 
pressed by this want, — it may be the consequence 
of their own folly! How many people are dull or 
proud or unsociable from the secret irritation of 
want of monej 7 ! 

The poor are ever at the mercy of circumstances. 
They cannot be independent, they cannot command 
their time, nor can they always afford to live in 
healthy localities or in healthy houses. They are 
the puppets of circumstances. 

In Europe crime increases with the price of bread. 
It is hard for a man to be manly, virtuous, and true 
when want stares him in the face. The ignorant 
and the undisciplined fear the wolf more than they 
do the law. 


80 


SUCCESS. 


Praise it who will, poverty is narrow, belittling, 
contracting; there is little hope in it, little prospect 
in it, little joy in it; it is a terrible strain upon the 
affections, and often kills love between those who 
would otherwise live happily. It is the duty of 
every young man and woman to exert every nerve to 
get out of its clutches into freedom, where the indi¬ 
viduality can find untramineled expansion. 

On every hand we see evidences of pinching, 
grinding poverty. We see it in prematurely de¬ 
pressed faces; want stares us in the face every day 
in nearly every city; its blighting, blasting marks 
are traceable everywhere. We see it in children who 
have no childhood; we see it in suppressed socia¬ 
bility, shadowing bright, young faces; we see its 
blighting effect upon brilliant minds. It often 
means hopelessness to the highest ambition ; it means 
thwarting of brilliant plans; it imposes serious ob¬ 
stacles to even the most resolute determination. 

Ho, poverty is a curse ; there is scarcely a redeem¬ 
ing feature about it, and those who extol its virtues 
are the last to accept its conditions. It is difficult 
to be a man or a woman in extreme poverty. Ham¬ 
pered with debt, bound in bondage to those upon 
whom we depend, forced to make a dime perform 
the proper work of a dollar, it is almost impossible 
to preserve that dignity and self-respect which en¬ 
ables a man to be a man, and to look the world 
squarely in the face. 

Money means shoes for bare feet; it means flan¬ 
nels and warm clothing for shivering forms; it means 


THE GAME OF THE WORLD. 


81 


coal for the fire, provisions for the larder. It means 
comforts, refinements, education, pictures, books, 
music, travel; it means a good house, nutritious 
food; it means independence; it means opportunity 
to do good; it means the best medical skill: how 
many poor people lose their lives because they can¬ 
not employ a skillful surgeon or physician! Money 
means rest when we are tired, it means change of 
climate for the invalid. It means the comforts of a 
Pullman car in traveling; it means a comfortable 
carriage to ride in instead of walking; it means that 
we are not forced to work through all kinds of 
weather and exposure, whether we are able or not; 
it means exemption from the drudgery which dogs 
the footsteps of the poor. 

Our first dollar is the largest we ever possess. 
Vice-President Wilson said the first dollar he earned 
looked as large as a cart wheel. 

“When I was eighteen years old,” said Lincoln, 
“I belonged to what they call, down South, the 
‘scrubs’; people who do not own slaves are nobody 
there. One day I sculled two men and their trunks 
out in my little fiat boat to the steamer, and when 
I had lifted their heavy baggage on deck, each of 
them threw me a silver dollar from the deck.” This 
quickly gained wealth, which he hardly dared be¬ 
lieve he had earned in less than a day, opened before 
him what seemed to be a wider and fairer world 
than before. “ I was a more hopeful and confident 
being from that time,” he said. 

“The first quarter I earned,” said Jay Gould, 


Q 





82 


SUCCESS. 


“ had more joy and ring in it than the last thousand 
dollars.” 

“ When you are young, how well you know 
A little money makes great show, 

Just fifty cents will cause you bliss, 

’Tis then a dollar looks like this: 


“ But when you’re old and bills come due, 

And creditors are dunning you, 

And every cent you spend you miss, 

’Tis then a dollar looks like this : 

$” 

Money indicates the character of the possessor. 
It is a great telltale. It betrays tastes, ambitions, 
and uncovers a hundred secrets. “ A right measure 
in getting, saving, spending, giving, taking, lending, 
borrowing, and bequeathing would almost argue a 
perfect man.” 

I have often thought if I were rich I would like 
to give a thousand dollars to each of the first hun¬ 
dred people I meet oh the street and see what they 
would do with it; I would like to trace out the his¬ 
tory of each thousand. 

To the poor boy struggling for an education, it 
would mean books and a possible college course. 
To the fast young man it would mean fine clothes, 
fast horses, pleasure, and a fast life. To a poor girl, 
support for an invalid mother, clothes and schooling 
for sisters. To another it would suggest a wife and 
home. To the miser it would mean “ more hoard¬ 
ing,” one thousand more. 


THE GAME OF THE WORLD. 


83 


It is a sad thing to see an old man begging bread, 
but it is sadder still to see an aged millionaire totter¬ 
ing on the edge of the grave, who has starved his 
soul to fatten his purse, whose greed for gold has 
dried up all the noblest springs of his life and 
stifled his aspirations for the good, the beautiful, 
and the true. What can be more pitiful than a 
shriveled soul with a distended purse? These are 
not men, but “hungers, thirsts, fevers, and appe¬ 
tites, walking.” 

It is no sin to be rich, nor to wish to be rich: the 
mistake is in being too eager after riches. 

“ Get all you can without hurting your soul, your 
body, or your neighbor,” said John Wesley. “Save 
all you can, cutting off every needless expense. 
Give all you can.” 

Beware of wealth which costs too much, for 
“What doth it profit a man if he gain the whole 
world and lose his own soul?” Our possessions 
must not own us. Few men gain wealth without 
sacrificing some part of themselves. The rule holds 
true of nations, too. The gold which poured into 
Spain from the South American colonies demoral¬ 
ized her, and she is commercially dead. 

Jay Gould said he was kept on the drive from 
morning till night, the money he made having 
enslaved him. 

Wealth is a curse whenever it takes away the great 
incentive of self-advancement. Inherited wealth al¬ 
most always means failure and death to the ordi¬ 
nary youth. But remember that it is the love of 


84 


SUCCESS. 


money, and not money itself, that is called the root 
of evil. 

“About three years ago,” said a miser, “by a 
very odd accident I fell into a well, and was abso¬ 
lutely within a very few minutes of perishing, be¬ 
fore I could prevail upon an unconscionable dog 
of a laborer, who happened to hear my cries, to 
help me out for a shilling. The fellow was so 
rapacious as to insist upon having twenty-five cents 
for above a quarter of an hour, and I verily believe 
he would not have abated me a single farthing, if 
he had not seen me at the last gasp, and I deter¬ 
mined to die rather than submit to his extortion.” 

The creed of the greedy man is brief and con¬ 
sistent, and, unlike other creeds, is both subscribed 
to and believed. “The chief end of man is to 
glorify gold and enjoy it forever; life is a time 
afforded man to grow rich in; death, the winding 
up of speculations; heaven, a mart with golden 
streets; hell, a place where shiftless men are pun¬ 
ished with everlasting poverty.” 

Although Midas got his wish, that everything he 
touched should turn to gold, his asses’ ears so morti¬ 
fied him, for he could not hide them, that he could 
not enjoy his gold. Men who coin their souls and 
characters into dollars get their wish, but with the 
coin they often get the asses’ ears, which they would 
give all their wealth to cover. But people will laugh 
at their ears more than they admire their gold. 
The King dug a hole in the ground and whispered 
his secret, which was consuming his soul and which 


THE GAME OF THE WORLD. 


85 


he dared tell no one, and covered it. But behold a 
reed came up and whispered to every passer-by, 
“ King Midas has asses’ ears.” 

It is said that when J. J. Astor was once congratu¬ 
lated by a certain person for his wealth, he replied 
by pointing to his pile of bonds and maps of prop¬ 
erty, at the same time inquiring, “ Would you like to 
manage these matters for your board and clothes ? ” 
The man demurred. “ Sir,” continued the rich man, 
“ it is all that I get.” 

“ I warn you against thinking that riches necessa¬ 
rily confer happiness, and poverty unhappiness,” says' 
Beecher. “ Do not begin life supposing that you 
shall be heart-rich when you are purse-rich. A 
man’s happiness depends primarily upon his disposi¬ 
tion : if that be good, riches will bring pleasure; 
but only vexation, if that be evil. To lavish money 
upon shining trifles, to make an idol of one’s self for 
fools to gaze at, to rear mansions beyond our wants, 
to garnish them for display and not for use, to 
chatter through the heartless rounds of pleasure, to 
lounge, to gape, to simper and giggle, — can wealth 
make vanity happy by such folly ? ” 

No man can be truly rich who is selfish. Money 
is like a spring of water in the mountains. It holds 
the wealth of the valley in its bosom, if it will only 
expend itself. When it dashes down the mountain, 
it makes the meadows green and glad with its wealth. 
Beautiful flowers spring up along its banks and bathe 
their faces in its sparkling surface. But once ob¬ 
struct this beautiful stream and the valleys dry up, 


86 


SUCCESS. 


the flowers and grass wither and die. The water 
loses its sparkle, and what was once the joy and life 
of the valley, now reeks with poison and swarms 
with vermin. The beautiful fountain has become 
a stagnant swamp. The deer no longer comes to 
quench his thirst at the beautiful pool, — the blessing 
becomes a curse. So with money: while it flows 
out freely and circulates, it blesses humanity; but 
when the circulation is interrupted by hoarding it, 
squandering or abusing it, it becomes a curse. The 
heart hardens, the sympathies dry up, the soul be¬ 
comes a desert. 

Money does not in itself increase the personal 
merit of its possessor. It is not a sign so much as 
a test of real worth. It constitutes opportunity and 
means for either virtue or vice, and its faithful use 
or hurtful abuse determines its owner’s character. 

Beecher says that avarice seeks gold, not to build 
or buy therewith; not to clothe or feed itself; not 
to make it an instrument of wisdom, skill, or friend¬ 
ship, or religion. Avarice seeks it to heap it up; 
to walk around the pile and gloat upon it; to 
fondle and court, to kiss and hug the darling stuff 
to the end of life, with the homage of idolatry. 

Pride seeks it, — for it gives power, place, and 
titles, and exalts its possessor above his fellows. To 
be a thread in the fabric of life, just like any other 
thread, hoisted up and down by the treadle, played 
across by the shuttle, and woven tightly into the 
piece, — this ma}' suit humility, but not pride. 

Vanity seeks it, — what else can give it costly 


THE GAME OF THE WORLD. 


87 


clothing, rare ornaments, stately dwellings, showy 
equipage, and attract admiring eyes to its gaudy 
colors and costly jewels ? 

Taste seeks it, — because by it may be had what¬ 
ever is beautiful, refining, or instructive. What lei¬ 
sure for study has poverty, and how can it collect 
books, manuscripts, pictures, statues, coins, or curi¬ 
osities ? 

Love seeks it, — to build a home full of delights 
for father, wife, or child; and, wisest of all, 

Religion seeks it, — to make it the messenger and 
servant of benevolence, to want, to suffering, and to 
ignorance. 

Money is the Aladdin’s lamp, of to-day. It has 
many legitimate uses. But it should be kept in the 
head and not in the heart. Money, some one has 
said, is the Sovereign of Sovereigns. 

It cannot be denied that wealth has a demoraliz¬ 
ing tendency. It saps the foundation of energy, it 
tempts dissipation. “Wealth and corruption, luxury 
and vice, have very close affinities for each other.” 

Money-getting has well been called unhealthy 
when it impoverishes the mind, or dries up the 
sources of spiritual life; when it extinguishes the 
sense of beauty, and makes one indifferent to 
the wonders of nature and of art; when it blunts 
the moral sense, and confuses the distinction be¬ 
tween right and wrong, virtue and vice; when it 
stifles religious impulse, and blots out all thoughts 
of God from the soul. 

A tenant one day, after he had settled his rent, 


i 


88 


SUCCESS. 


thus addressed his laird: “ Now I would give you 
a shilling, Laird Braco, to have a sight of all the 
gold and silver which you possess.” “Well, man,” 
his lordship replied, “it shall cost you no more.” 
The shilling was paid, and his lordship fulfilled his 
part of the bargain, exhibiting to his tenant a num¬ 
ber of iron boxes filled with gold and silver money. 
“ Now, my laird,” said the tenant, “ I am as rich as 
you, after all.” “ How, my man ? ” said his lordship. 
“ Because I see the money, my laird, and you have 
not the heart to do any more with it.” 

Talk of poverty! There is no poverty so pitiable 
as that of the man who has acres of land, but not an 
atom of love; whose riches rise into millions, but 
whose life sinks into insignificance. 

Not the inventory of your property, but that of 
your unsatisfied wants, measures your fortune ; not 
your annual income, but your annual deficit or sur¬ 
plus, makes you rich or poor. 

How many we have seen with enough to retire on, 
but with nothing to retire to! 

A few months ago a millionaire died, and the 
first question was, “ How much money did he leave ? ” 
The answer was, “ He left it all. Burial robes have 
no pockets.” 

“ To me the worship of wealth means, in the pres¬ 
ent,” says Mrs. Howe, “ the crowning of low merit 
with undeserved honor; the setting of successful vil¬ 
lainy above unsuccessful virtue. It means absolute 
neglect and isolation for the few who follow a high 
heart’s love through want and pain, through evil and 


THE GAME OF THE WORLD. 


89 


good report. It means the bringing of all human 
resources, material and intellectual, to one dead level 
of brilliant exhibition, — a second ‘ Field of the Cloth 
of Gold’ to show that the barbaric love of splendor 
still lives in the heart of man, with the thirst for 
blood and other quasi -animal passions. It means in 
the future some such downfall as Spain had when the 
gold and silver of America had gorged her soldiers 
and nobles ; something like what France experienced 
after Louis XIY. and XY. I am no prophet, and 
least of all a prophet of evil; but where, oh where, 
shall we find the antidote to this metallic poison? 
Perhaps in the homeopathic principle of cure. When 
the money miracle shall be complete, when the gold 
Midas shall have turned everything to gold, then 
the human heart will cry for flesh and blood, for 
brain and muscles. Then shall manhood be at a 
premium and money at a discount.” 

Noble aims and sincere devotion to them, the 
highest development of mind and heart, the fine 
aroma of cultivation which springs from the intimacy 
with all that human genius has achieved, — simplicity 
and integrity, — a soul whose sweetness overflows 
in the manner and makes the voice winning and 
the movement graceful: here is the recipe for fine 
society. 

The wealth of a foolish man is a pedestal which, 
the more he accumulates, elevates him higher and 
reveals his deformity to a broader circle. These 
most obvious facts are rarely remembered. Gilded 
vulgarity believes itself to be gold. 


90 


SUCCESS. 


Bishop Berkeley declared that he was the richest 
man in England, because he had trained himself to 
the habit of mind of regarding everything which 
gave him pleasure as his own. In our day, most 
philosophers of that school reside in penitentiaries. 

Izaak Walton said, “ There are as many troubles on 
the other side of riches as on this.” Dr. Johnson 
said, “If six hundred pounds a year would procure a 
man more consequence, and of course more happiness 
than six pounds a year, the same proportion will 
hold to six thousand, and so on as far as opulence 
can be carried.” But the whole experience of the 
Croesuses of the world is against this theory. There 
is a canker of discontent which has never yet been 
separated fully from great riches, which is con¬ 
stantly eating away at happiness and tarnished pleas¬ 
ure, —the little demons of selfishness and envy, and 
discontent and fear, and restlessness, avarice, grasp¬ 
ing, “ never-enoughness,” and greedy ambition which, 
the more it has, the hungrier it grows, and scores of 
other barnacles which cluster about wealth and lessen 
its pleasures. 

Great wealth usually brings more pains than 
pleasures, more anxiety than peace, more discontent 
than content, more discord than harmony. 

“ After I had earned my first thousand dollars by the 
hardest kind of work,” said Commodore Vanderbilt, 
“ I felt richer and happier than when I had my first 
million. I was out of debt, every dollar was honestly 
mine, and I saw my way to success.” 

Almost every millionaire in this country will tell 


THE GAME OF THE WORLD. 


91 


you that his greatest satisfaction and happiest days 
were when he was emerging from poverty into a 
competency; when he first felt that his little savings 
were swelling towards the stream of fortune; when 
he first felt assured that want would no longer dog 
his steps; when he thought he saw leisure ahead of 
him, or self-development, self-culture, and perhaps 
study and travel; when he first felt that those whom 
he loved were being lifted out of the clutches of 
poverty, that comforts were taking the place of 
stern necessities; when he first felt that he had the 
power to lift himself above himself, that henceforth 
he might be of consequence in the world, that he 
might have pictures and music and comforts for his 
home, that his children might not have to struggle 
quite as hard as he did for an education ; when he 
first felt the consciousness of power to give them 
and others a little start in the world; when he first 
felt the little circle about him expanding into a 
larger sphere, broadening into a wider horizon. 

“In London there is such a thing as sanctified 
wealth ,” says Dwight L. Moody. “That is a very 
rare commodity in America. That is chiefly due to 
the fact that in London you have families that have 
been acclimated to wealth. They can breathe it 
without choking. It does not crush them. It iS'one 
of the ordinary incidents of their lives; and, being 
born to wealth, they make as good use of it as of 
any other gift they possess. But in America our 
rich men have nearly all been born poor. They have 
heaped together vast fortunes. As a consequence, 


92 


SUCCESS. 


their wealth is too much for them, and there is 
nothing to compare with the great numbers of 
wealthy men and women who in London devote the 
whole of their leisure time to the service of God and 
their fellow-men. Why, one day the heir to one of 
the greatest fortunes in London, whose name I do 
not wish to publish, stood outside our meeting and 
held a cabman’s horse the whole time in order that 
the cabman might take part in the service within.” 

Unfortunately all cannot be rich. Goethe says, 
“ Nobody should be rich but those who understand it.” 

“ Some men are born to own, and can animate all 
their possessions; others cannot. Their owning is 
not graceful, and seems a compromise of their char¬ 
acter ; they seem to steal their own dividends.” 

“ They should own who can administer, not they 
who hoard and conceal; not the} 7- who, the greater 
proprietors they are, are only the greater beggars.” 
But all can have character. 

Fortunately a man’s life does not consist in the 
abundance of the things he possesses. When Bias 
was asked why he did not load himself down with 
his possessions, when obliged to flee from his country, 
he replied, “ I am carrying all my treasures with me,” 
— though he had only himself. He is not rich who 
does not carry his wealth in himself. 

Charles I. once sent a small sum of money to Ben 
Jonson when he was sick. Jonson sent it back 
with this message: “I suppose the King sends this 
because I live in an alley. Tell him his soul lives in 
an alley.” 


THE GAME OF THE WORLD. 


93 


Many a man lives in a palace, while his soul lives 
in an alley. The American sportsman who owns in 
Scotland a “ deer forest,” is not as rich as some of 
the poor ignorant peasants whom he drove from 
their homes in order to get possession of his vast 
territory, and gratify his passion for sport. 

True wealth does not make others poorer. He is 
the richest man, who can live without his riches and 
is content to enjoy what others own; who does not 
believe that the best part of the farm is conveyed in 
the title deed; who can enjoy a landscape without 
owning the land; who sees “ books in the running 
brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.” 

He is the richest man who absorbs into himself 
the most of the best in the world in which he lives, 
and who gives the most of himself to others. He is 
the richest man in whose possessions others feel rich¬ 
est. To be rich is to have a strong, robust constitu¬ 
tion ; to have a hearty appreciation of the beautiful 
in nature; to have access to the masterpieces of art, 
science, and literature ; to have admission to great 
men and women; to have a past which haunts not 
with remorse; to have a mind liberally stored and 
contented. 

Well has it been said that a vain man’s motto is, 
“Win gold and wear it”; a generous man’s, “Win 
gold and share it” ; a miser’s, “ Win gold and spare 
it”; a profligate’s, “Win gold and spend it”; a 
broker’s, “ Win gold and lend it ” ; a gambler’s or a 
fool’s, “Win gold and lose it”; but the wise man’s, 
“ Win gold and use it.” 


94 


SUCCESS. 


u The wealth that circulates like social blood 
From rich to poor, from palace unto hut, 

Is like the life-blood, genial in its flow ; 

But that which stagnates in the hoarded vault, 

Or bank, or merchant’s safe, is the disease 
That, lurking in the veins, transforms the blood, 

Till it forsakes the cold extremities, 

And throttles with plethoric greed of all 
The miser heart.” 

Wealth is not acquired, as many persons suppose, by fortunate 
speculations and splendid enterprises, but by daily practice of 
industry, frugality, and economy. lie who relies upon these 
means will rarely be found destitute, and he who relies upon 
any other will generally become bankrupt.— Wayland. 

The greatest and most amiable privilege which the rich 
enjoy over the poor, is that which they exercise the least, — the 
privilege of making them happy. — Colton. 

By doing good with his money, a man, as it were, stamps 
the image of God upon it, and makes it pass current for the 
merchandise of heaven. — Rutledge. 


CHAPTER IV. 


MISFIT OCCUPATIONS. 


I cannot too often repeat that no man struggles perpetually and 
victoriously against his own character. — H. L. Rulwer. 

If you choose to represent the various parts in life by holes in a 
table, of different shapes, — some circular, some triangular, some 
square, some oblong, — and the persons acting these parts by bits of 
wood of similar shapes, we shall generally find that the triangular 
person has got into the square hole, the oblong into the triangular; 
while the square person has squeezed himself into the round hole. — 
Sydney Smith. 

Nor deem the irrevocable past 
As wholly wasted, wholly vain, 

If, standing on its wrecks, at last 
To something nobler we attain . — Longfellow. 

There is hardly a poet, artist, philosopher, or man of science men¬ 
tioned in the history of the human intellect, whose genius was not 
opposed by parents, guardians, or teachers. In these cases Nature 
seems to have triumphed by direct opposition ; to have insisted on her 
darlings having their rights, and encouraged disobedience, secrecy, 
falsehood, even flight from home and occasional vagabondism, rather 
than the world should lose what it cost her so much pain to produce.— 
E. P. Whipple. 

“ My father wanted me to be a minister,” said Ole 
Bull, “and I thought I must do as he wished. But 
when I was eight years old, he bought me a new 
violin to study under a teacher, for he said that a 
minister ought to know a little about music. 

“ That night I could not sleep; I rose in the night 
to get a peep at the precious violin. It was so red,” 
he added, telling the story years afterward, “and the 
pretty pearl screws did smile at me so, I pinched 
the strings just a little with my fingers, and it smiled 
at me ever more and more. I took up the bow and 
looked at it; it said to me it would be pleased to 

95 


96 


SUCCESS. 


have me try it across the strings. So I did try it 
just a very, very little, and it did sing to me so 
sweetly. At first I did play so soft. I forgot that 
it was midnight and everybody asleep, but presently 
I heard something crack, and the next minute I felt 
my father’s whip across my shoulders. My little 
red violin dropped on the floor and was broken. I 
did weep very much for it, but it did no good. They 
did have a doctor to it the next day, but it never 
recovered its health.” 

His father determined that Ole should study for 
the ministry, so he hired a pious tutor who used to 
kneel down and pray before whipping the boy. One 
morning at half-past four, as the tutor was dragging 
the boys out of bed, Ole sprang upon him and gave 
him a good beating, encouraged by the smaller boys 
who shouted, “ Don’t give it up, Ole, give it to him 
with all your might.” 

The father becoming convinced that theology was 
not Ole’s forte, sent him, at the age of eighteen, to the 
university, and as he left home begged him not to 
yield to his passion for music, and forbade him play¬ 
ing at all. But he could not resist, and sometimes 
played for days, scarcely sparing time to eat and 
sleep, thus incurring his father’s displeasure and 
becoming a wanderer. At Paris he had the mis¬ 
fortune to be robbed by one who pretended to be 
a friend. 

In Venice, later, unknown, he worked day after 
day in an upper room composing a concerto, and 
played on his violin at night at his window. 


MISFIT OCCUPATIONS. 


97 


One night when Malibran was engaged to sing, 
she suddenly refused, having learned that Be Beriot, 
whom she loved, was to receive, for singing with her, 
a smaller sum than herself. So it happened that 
Ole Bull was roused from his bed and urged to play 
to the disappointed audience, his playing at the win¬ 
dow having been heard by an appreciative critic and 
reported to the manager of the theatre. 

This was the opportunity of his life, and, rushing 
to the theatre, he won fame in a single night. The 
house shook with applause after the first piece. It 
was his boyhood of unconscious training for this 
opportunity, which made him equal to the occasion, 
instead of ridiculous, as he would have been, without 
it. 

Your talent is your call. “ What can you do ? ” is 
the interrogation of the century. Better adorn your 
own than seek another’s place. 

A young broom-maker thought that he had a call 
to be a preacher, and applied to his Presbytery for a 
license, which, after an official examination, it was 
thought best to refuse. 

The decision was made known to the candidate by 
the oldest minister, who said with great deliberation : 
“ My young friend, the Lord requires every man to 
glorify Him in some particular calling, some in one 
and some in another, according to the talents He 
hath committed unto them; and the Presbytery are 
of the opinion that the Lord desires that you should 
glorify Him by making brooms.” 

It is said that P. T. Barnum had tried fourteen 


ii 


98 


SUCCESS. 


different occupations before he found out what nature 
had best fitted him for, — a showman. 

The Queen of Sheba once presented Solomon two 
garlands of flowers, one real, and the other so natural 
that even the wise man could not distinguish between 
them. A bee, however, came to his aid, for it imme¬ 
diately flew to the real flowers. The instinct of 
this little insect was wiser than the wisdom of 
Solomon. The child's bent often leads it straight 
to its natural occupation, which thwarts the wisdom 
of parents. 

Two of the most eminent surgeons of the United 
States became physicians only in consequence of early 
failures in business ventures. When misfortunes hap¬ 
pen, therefore, they may be paving the way for great 
successes. Our failure may be due to our superiority. 
Milton failed as a teacher of small boys, and Dr. 
Marion Sims as keeper of a country store. 

Galileo was sent to the University at Pisa at seven¬ 
teen, with the strict injunction not to neglect medical 
studies for the allurements of philosophy or literature. 
But when he was eighteen he discovered the great 
principle of the pendulum by observing a lamp left 
swinging in the cathedral. 

The republic of Venice appointed him Professor of 
Mathematics at Padua, a position which he held for 
eighteen years. He was so popular and fascinating 
that his immense audiences would frequently have to 
adjourn to the open air for room. Imagine mathe¬ 
matics made so charming! Like Gladstone, he had 
the rare faculty of making figures eloquent. What 


MISFIT OCCUPATIONS. 


99 


a loss it would have been to the world had he become 
a physician! 

John Adams’ father was a shoemaker, and, trying 
to teach his son the art, he gave him some “ uppers ” 
to cut out by a pattern which had a three cornered 
hole in it to hang it up by. The future statesman 
followed the pattern, hole and all. There is a tradi¬ 
tion that Tennyson’s first poems were published at 
the instigation of his father’s coachman. His grand¬ 
father gave the lad ten shillings for writing an elegy 
on his grandmother. As he handed it to the youth, 
he said, “There, that’s the first money you ever 
earned by your poetry, and take my word for it, it 
will be your last.” 

When Erskine had at length found his place, he 
carried everything before him at the bar. Had he 
remained in the navy, he would probably never have 
been heard from. When elected to Parliament, his 
lofty spirit was chilled by the cold sarcasm and con¬ 
temptuous indifference of Pitt, whom he was ex¬ 
pected to annihilate. But he was again shorn of his 
magic power, and his eloquent tongue faltered from 
a consciousness of being out of his place. 

“ How did you find your place ? ” asked a friend of 
George Peabody, the famous banker. “ I didn’t find 
it,” was the reply ; “ the place found me.” 

True; but, after it found young Peabody, the 
place would not have taken him had it not found 
him prepared. 

When Leland Stanford was a boy, his father told 
him he could have all the timber on their land. The 


100 


SUCCESS. 


lad contracted with the railroad to buy it, hired wood- 
choppers, and cleared twenty-five hundred dollars by 
the bargain. His instincts were for business; but he 
ignored all this, studied law, and settled in a lonely 
part of Washington, Wisconsin. He had not the 
slightest adaptability for law. Fortunately he was 
burned out, lost everything, and returned to his 
brothers in California. He then returned to a busi¬ 
ness life, — his early choice, — and laid the founda¬ 
tion of his immense fortune and benefactions. 

A socially ambitious father or mother may check 
a young son’s honest ambition to become a mechanic, 
may send him to college, and make a briefless bar¬ 
rister out of the material which could have been 
molded into an honest and efficient artisan. Many 
a boy whose soul yearned for the higher walks of 
intellectual culture, for which nature had endowed 
him, has been doomed by injudicious parents, who 
despised colleges, to a dull life at a dry-goods counter 
or counting-room desk. 

Franklin was so disgusted with his work cutting 
wicks for his father, who was a tallow chandler and 
soap boiler in Boston, that he determined to run 
away to sea as one of his brothers had done. lie 
did run away to Philadelphia, later, as all the world 
knows. 

Dickens was one of the greatest of English nov¬ 
elists ; but it was his failure to become an actor which 
caused him, in the first place, to turn his attention to 
literature. 

Peter Cooper was only thirty-five years old when 



“Follow your bent; 
aspirations. ” 


BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 

you cannot long fight successfully against your 













MISFIT OCCUPATIONS. 


101 


he bought a glue factory, and had been in business 
for himself nine years, having made six changes of 
occupation in that time. Starting as a carriage- 
maker, the occupations of woolen-shearer, inventor, 
cabinet-maker, and grocer were followed in quick 
succession, each an improvement on the one before, 
until his right place was firmly established in the 
glue factory. He became richer than most people 
do who make so many changes in their career. 

David Livingstone studied for three years with 
the sole aim of being a missionary to China. It 
was only because his hopes were crushed by the 
“ opium war,” which made it impossible to enter 
China, that he thought of going to Africa, and was 
the means of opening up a whole continent to Chris¬ 
tianity and civilization. 

Raleigh was unsuccessful; but he left a name that 
will forever be associated with heroic endeavor and 
noble character. Kossuth was unsuccessful; but 
who will say that his patient and high-spirited 
career, his brilliant oratory and steadfast conduct, 
have been fruitless? O’Connell was unsuccessful; 
but who has left a name more brilliant as an orator, 
or a nobler fame as a patriot and liberator ? 

There was once a boy in the Isle of Wight whose 
whole soul was absorbed with the sights and sounds 
of the sea, whose mind was filled with dreams of its 
romance and adventure. His parents insisted that 
he should become a tailor, and apprenticed him to 
a worthy tradesman in the village of Niton. One 
day it was reported in the workshop that a squadron 


102 


SUCCESS. 


of men-of-war was off the island. The lad threw 
aside his needle, leaped from the shopboard, and 
mingled with the crowd that had assembled to gaze 
upon the stately spectacle. Ilis old sympathies kin¬ 
dled immediately into fresh life. He jumped into a 
boat, rowed off to the admiral’s ship, offered himself 
as a volunteer, and was accepted. That boy was after¬ 
wards Admiral Hobson, who broke the boom of Yigo. 

Robert Clive, as a boy, was wild and reckless. 
Nobody could control or tame him. He was the 
terror of the shopkeepers of the town. His father 
regarded him as a vagrant, and shipped him off to 
die of fever in Madras. He exchanged his pen for 
a sword, became a great statesman and captain, and 
saved to the British their possessions in India. Long 
after the English nation was wild with enthusiasm 
over his name, his father — father-like — refused to 
believe that “Bob Clive” would ever come to any¬ 
thing but a gibbet. 

What a wretched failure was that of Haydon the 
painter! He thought he. failed through the world’s 
ingratitude or injustice, but his failure was due wholly 
to his being out of place. His bitter disappointments 
at his half successes were really pitiable, because to 
him they were more than failures. lie had not the 
slightest sense of color, yet went through life under 
the delusion that he was an artist. 

Grant’s failure as a subaltern made him com- 
mander-in-chief. 

Gould failed as a storekeeper, tanner, surveyor and 
civil engineer before he got into a railroad office 


MISFIT OCCUPATIONS. 


103 


where he found his bent. When extracts from James 
Russell Lowell’s poem at Harvard were shown his 
father at Rome, instead of being pleased, the latter 
said: “James promised me when I left home that 
he would give up poetry and stick to books. I had 
hoped that he had become less flighty.” 

Half the world is out of place and tortured with 
the consciousness of unfulfilled destiny. Civilization 
will mark its highest tide when every man finds his 
place and fills it. 

One of the most estimable of clergymen was for 
many years an officer in the army; another friend 
was a total failure in the ministry, but is now a very 
successful physician. 

The lover of art almost shudders at what the world 
would have lost, had Turner shaved chins in Maiden 
Lane ; had Claude Lorraine continued a pastry cook; 
had Michael Angelo not persisted in disobeying his 
parents. 

In the great fair of humanity, half the young men 
are entered for premiums for speed, when they should 
be entered as farm or truck horses — of course they 
fail. By straining their unnatural powers for speed 
they are ruined for the farm, the saddle, or the dray. 

At sea the man out of place is called a land-lubber; 
in the country, a cockney; in town, a greenhorn; in 
science, an ignoramus; in business, a simpleton; in 
pleasure, a milksop. If out of his element he is 
described as “in the clouds,” “adrift,” or by what¬ 
ever words utter ignorance and incapacity are to be 
described. 


104 


SUCCESS. 


How many thousands of round men and women 
are to-day misunderstood, persecuted, maligned, strug¬ 
gling in obscurity and failure to release themselves 
from the square holes into which they have been 
wedged by circumstances or mistakes of themselves 
or of parents who misunderstood them! Oh, happy 
is the man who has found his place! He shall ask 
no other blessedness. 

A man out of place may manage to get a living, 
but he has lost the buoyancy, energy, and enthusiasm 
which are as natural to a man in his place as his 
breath. He is industrious, but he works mechani¬ 
cally and without heart. It is to support himself 
and family, not because he cannot help it. A man 
out of place is constantly looking at his watch and 
thinking of his salary. Dinner time does not come 
two hours before he realizes it. 

If a man is in his place, he is happy, joyous, cheer¬ 
ful, energetic. The days are all too short for him. 
All his powers give their consent to his work, say 
“yes” to his occupation. He is a man, he respects 
himself, and is happy because all his powers are 
at play in their natural sphere. There is no compro¬ 
mising of his faculties; no cramping of legal acumen 
upon the farm; no suppression of forensic oratorial 
powers at the shoemaker’s bench; no stifling of 
exuberance of physical strength, of visions of golden 
crops, and blooded cattle, and the loved country life 
in the dry clergyman’s study, composing sermons to 
put a congregation to sleep. 

The same tree that is fat and spongy in a swamp, 


MISFIT OCCUPATIONS. 


105 


grows hard and noble on the hillside. The greatest 
men of the world have been produced along a nar¬ 
row belt of latitude in the temperate zone, where it 
is neither very hot nor very cold. Extremes of tem¬ 
perature very rarely produce great men. The finest 
fibre of brain and nerve and muscle is produced 
within this narrow belt, between the extremes of 
temperature. The finest texture of timber is also 
produced in about the same narrow zone. 

Men and animals and vegetation are all very much 
dependent upon the soil, upon the climate and sur¬ 
roundings. Acorns from the same oak planted in dif¬ 
ferent parts of the world will retain the oak-identity, 
but will produce a great variety of oaks. The timber 
in some localities would be entirely unfit for use in 
ships, for example, because the enervating climate 
would rob it of its tenacity and stamina. So man is 
very largely dependent upon his birthplace and his 
surroundings. Ever}^ mountain, valley, and stream, 
every frost or scorching heat will have its part in his 
composition, and will modify his life in spite of his 
will power; indeed, the strength of his will itself 
will be somewhat at the mercy of the climate. 

Do the best he can, man is very largely a creature 
of circumstances, from which he can never separate 
himself. Every one of his thousand environments is 
like a chisel cutting away at the marble of his life, 
leaving its own impression, and every minute modify¬ 
ing his existence. Molded and chiseled by visible 
and invisible surroundings, and modified by will and 
purpose, he becomes a composite man, pressed out- 


106 


SUCCESS. 


ward by the expansive powers within him, and re¬ 
strained and shaped by his environments without. 

When we see so many misfits in the world, — a 
minister who would have made a successful physi¬ 
cian, a dry-goods clerk who would have made a 
successful civil engineer, — we realize that personal 
judgment is often at fault in the selection of a place 
in life. Every one has some ambition. When one 
depends on his own judgment and chooses wrongly, 
after a few years of perseverance he sees his mistake; 
but it is sometimes too late to rectify it, and he may 
become discouraged and so lose all chance of success. 
If one knows that there is one thing that he can do 
well, he derives from the knowledge a feeling of con¬ 
fidence which is bound to make him successful. Now 
comes the question, how am I to know my right place 
in life ? The answer is simply this, know yourself. 
When the late O. S. Fowler was lecturing in Peoria, 
Illinois, at the hotel where he was stopping he 
noticed a young man employed as a porter, who 
appeared to have more than ordinary ability. lie 
called him to his room, gave him an examination, 
told him that with an education he would become 
an excellent criminal lawyer. The young man, 
taking his advice, studied law, and became known as 
Chicago’s leading criminal lawyer. 

The world does not demand that you be a lawyer, 
minister, doctor, farmer, scientist, or merchant. It 
does not dictate what you shall do, but it does re¬ 
quire that you be a master in whatever you under¬ 
take. If you are a master in your line, it will applaud 


MISFIT OCCUPATIONS. 


107 


you, and all doors will fly open to you. But it con¬ 
demns all botches, abortions, and failures. 

Every man is a sphinx to all others, — an unsolved 
riddle, an agent from his creator, with sealed orders 
which he has not yet read himself in full. 

When a man finds his place he will know it. lie 
will feel at home, enthusiastic and contented. When 
he is in his element, he exerts his powers as by instinct. 
A fish does not try to swim on land, but never hesi¬ 
tates to use his fins when in the water. Anxious, 
discontented faces about us tell too plainly of the 
jarring discord produced by inclination struggling 
against heavy odds to fulfill its destiny. 

A farmer boy, mistaking the zeal of his conversion 
for a call to preach, is still farming in the pulpit. A 
good shoemaker is doing bad cobbling in the legis¬ 
lature. A fine mechanic, fired by some lecturer who 
made him dissatisfied with his humble lot by telling 
him that “ where there’s a will, there’s a way,” and 
“ labor conquers all things,” that “ nothing is im¬ 
possible to him that wills,” and that “ a man can do 
what he thinks he can,” and many other half-truths, 
abandons his trade to study law, for which he has 
not the slightest adaptability. 

It is unfortunate that a boy cannot be taught in 
school the career for which he is best adapted. Al¬ 
though it may be difficult to guide the student into 
exactly the right channel, yet we can keep him from 
going into a great many wrong ones. We can, from 
the structure of a pupil’s mind, the tendency of his 
thought, the direction of his inclination, show him 


108 


SUCCESS. 


what he cannot do well by any possibility. If he can¬ 
not draw a figure upon the board or a diagram, if he 
has no mechanical aptitude whatever, the teacher can, 
with reasonable certainty, predict that the boy will 
not make a successful mechanic or inventor. 

If he has no inclination for figures, if he is inaccu¬ 
rate in his problems and statements, the professor can 
safely tell the young man not to make a specialty of 
mathematics, that he has not a mathematical mind. 
If he has an illogical mind, cannot make exact state¬ 
ments, has no desire to get at the reason of things, 
has no natural powers of persuasion or skill in hair¬ 
splitting argument, his preceptor could safely discour¬ 
age him from studying law. If he has no love of 
detail, no patience; if he is faint-hearted or tender¬ 
hearted ; if he lacks sympathy, has no natural love 
for investigation ; if he lacks tact, it can be predicted 
that the young man will not make a good physician; 
and so on through the whole list of occupations and 
professions. The hints which the intelligent and 
kindly teacher or professor could give would be of 
the greatest service in determining the most difficult 
of all the problems of life. 

A caged eagle is conscious of inferiority, of loss of 
power. He knows that his wings were intended for 
soaring, and feels a perpetual humiliation while im¬ 
prisoned. But open the cage and let his proud wings 
feel the air once more, and he will mount and mount 
until he becomes but a speck between the earth and 
the sun. So caged minds never feel their power 
until they are free, until their wings touch the air, 


MISFIT OCCUPATIONS. 


109 


then they aspire and soar towards their natural 
goal. 

A man cannot carve himself into anything he 
pleases, unless it is what he is intended for. If he 
attempts it, the result will be a botch. Everything 
in nature is naturally beautiful, and each thing is 
necessary in its place. One flower does not envy 
another. Every blossom is a sacred censer, swinging 
its perfume out on the air without jealousy of any 
other flower, or of the mighty trees above it. Its 
great mission is to throw out just as much sweetness 
and beauty as possible. 

If we are contented to unfold the life within, ac¬ 
cording to the pattern given us, we shall reach the 
highest end of which we are capable. It is not for 
a youth to ask himself whether he can make a Web¬ 
ster, a Gladstone, a Lincoln, or a Grant. He should 
ask what he is best fitted for, and then he will find 
a place just as important as any filled by these men. 

How many brave souls are cramped, crippled ; are 
dwarfs, mere manikins, toys, because they are out 
of their places and, in their ignorance, do not know 
how to find them. They drift, conscious of powers 
which they cannot use, and which others cannot 
understand ; they lose heart and courage, and finally, 
perhaps, become dissipated in the vain effort to drown 
their troubles and forget their disappointments. 

Criminals, suicides, most of the unfortunates in 
life, come from the classes who have never found 
their places. A man in his place rarely commits 
crime. When he has found his orbit he feels satis- 


110 


SUCCESS. 


fied in it; he feels that all his powers are pulling; 
his purpose is tugging away at all his faculties. He 
does not feel humiliated because he is a farmer 
or a blacksmith or a school-teacher. He does not 
apologize because he is not this or that; he has 
found his place, and is satisfied. He may not have 
the ability of a Webster or a Lincoln, but that does 
not humiliate him; he feels that he is a man, a whole 
man, and the consciousness of fulfilling his natural 
destiny makes him a power. He knows that the 
violet is as perfect and as necessary as the pine which 
towers hundreds of feet above. 

A youth sometimes chooses a profession because of 
its “ respectability.” He would be identified with 
the great men of his profession, as in the law. But 
what a mistake! He is doomed to follow far behind 
the great masters, if out of his natural sphere. In¬ 
stead of being an ornament to the profession, He will 
be but the laughing-stock both of his colleagues and of 
the world. A white necktie is often the only band 
which binds a clergyman to the ministry; the 
“ green bag ” the only legal characteristic the lawyer 
possesses, for, like necessity, he knows no law. 

Find your place and fill it. 

Be what nature intended you for, and you will succeed; be 
anything else, and you will be ten thousand times worse than 
nothing. — Sydney Smith. 


CHAPTER Y. 


DOING EVERYTHING TO A FINISH. 


If a man can write a better book, preach a better sermon, or make 
a better mouse-trap than his neighbor, though he build his house in 
the woods, the world will make a beaten path to his door. — Emerson. 
Things done well, and with a care, 

Exempt themselves from fear. — Shakespeare. 

Aim at perfection in everything, though in most things it is unat¬ 
tainable. However, they who aim at it, and persevere, will come 
much nearer to it than those whose laziness and despondency make 
them give it up as unattainable. — Chesterfield. 

To excel is to live. — Beranger. 

He who is faithful over a few things is a lord of cities. It does not 
matter whether you preach in Westminster Abbey or teach a ragged 
class, so you be faithful. The faithfulness is all.— George Macdonald. 

Hurry not only spoils work, but spoils life also. — Lubbock. 

In a word trust that man in nothing, 

Who has not a conscience in everything. — Laurence Sterne. 

The man who has acquired the habit of study, though for only one 
hour every day in the year, and keeps to the one thing studied till it is 
mastered, will be startled to see the way he has made at the end of a 
twelvemonth. — Buhver Lytton. 

“ Never you mind the crowd, lad, 

Or fancy your life won’t tell; 

There’s always work for a’ that 
To him that doeth it well. 

“ Fancy the world a hill, lad, 

Look where the millions stop; 

You’ll find the crowd at the base, lad, — 

There’s always room at the top.” 


“ Oh, that is good enough ! ” exclaimed a workman 
to a careful companion. “ It looks just as well now 
as if you clinched the nails and set the screws a little 
tighter, and takes less time. Who is going to know 
the difference ? ” 


ill 


112 


SUCCESS. 


“ I know it myself,” replied the other quietly, “ and 
that is enough. It would not last long.” 

“ Then we should have another job,” chuckled the 
first. “ What is the use of being so particular? No¬ 
body is nowadays, and nobody will thank you.” 

“ Can’t help that,” was the answer; “ I believe in 
honest work, and if I didn’t do it, I’d feel ashamed 
of myself. Why, man, it is just the same as stealing 
to take a job, slight it, and then get the same pay as 
if it was done right. No, sir. I want to respect 
myself, whether anybody else does or not.” 

“Well,” replied his companion, “ all I’ve got to say 
is you are a fool. The world don’t wag that way, 
and you’ll get left if you carry out a plan of that 
kind. Get the most money for the least work is my 
rule, and I make money, twice as much as you do.” 

“ That may be,” replied the other resolutely; “ and 
you can go on making it, while I do good jobs and 
get less pay, perhaps; but I’ll like myself better, 
and that’s more important to me than the money.” 

The withdrawal of the best of one’s self from the 
work to be done is sure to bring final disaster. The 
men who have made the most money, the artists who 
have won the greatest fame, the writers who have 
gained the world’s ear, never “ made things do ” in 
the beginning of their career. They were not satis¬ 
fied with just doing without regard to the quality of 
their work, even though that work were done for 
others and not half paid for. They recognized the 
fact that the effect upon themselves of careless ac¬ 
complishment was far more harmful for their future 


DOING EVERYTHING TO A FINISH. 


113 


than any possible present material good to be derived 
from such action. 

Every youth should be taught that there is a great 
reward, a feeling of satisfaction and contentment, as¬ 
sociated with everything that is completely finished. 
The discipline of being exact is uplifting. 

“ The man whose eyes are nailed,” says Emerson, 
“not on the nature of his act, but on the wages, 
whether it be money, or office, or fame, is almost 
equally low.” Not only is this true, but it is hardly 
an exaggeration to add that the man who scamps his 
work is very apt to become a scamp. 

That a man or woman who, knowingly, does a 
poor job when receiving pay for a good one, is as 
much a thief as if abstracting money from another’s 
pocket-book, is a truth that does not appear to strike 
home in many cases. This carelessness, this disregard 
for the rights of others, grows out of the failure to 
recognize the law of human brotherhood; and also 
from a failure to understand clearly that the one 
who thus refuses to do his duty really hurts him¬ 
self and shadows his own soul, in a way for which 
no money gained for the moment can at all com¬ 
pensate. 

“ I tell you what, Billy Gray,” exclaimed a me¬ 
chanic when reprimanded for slovenly work by a 
merchant-prince of Boston; “I slia’n’t stand such 
words from you. Why, I can remember when you 
were nothing but a drummer in a regiment! ” “ And 

so I was,” replied Mr. Gray; “ so I was a drummer; 
but didn’t I drum well, eh? — didn’t I drum well?” 


114 


SUCCESS. 


Work that is not finished is not work at all; it is 
merely a botch, an abortion. We often see this 
habit of incompleteness in a child, and it often in¬ 
creases with age. All about the house, everywhere, 
there are half-finished things. Children often be¬ 
come tired of things which they begin with en¬ 
thusiasm ; but there is a great difference in them 
about finishing what they undertake. A boy, for 
instance, will start out in the morning with great 
enthusiasm to dig his garden over; but after a few 
minutes his zeal has evaporated and he wants to go 
fishing. He soon becomes tired of this, and thinks 
he will make a boat. Ho sooner does he get a saw 
and knife and a few pieces of board about him than 
he makes up his mind that what he really wanted to 
do after all was to play ball, and this, in turn, must 
give way to something else. 

“ How is it that you do so much ? ” asked one, in 
astonishment at the efforts and success of a great 
man. “Why, I do but one thing at a time, and 
try to finish it once for all.” I would therefore have 
you keep this in mind : do not send a letter home 
blotted or hurried and ask your relatives to excuse 
it because you are in a hurry. You have no right 
to be in such a hurry. It is doing injustice to your¬ 
self. Do not make a memorandum so carelessly 
that in five years you cannot read it. Do not hurry 
anything so that you do not know certainly about it, 
and have to trust to vague impressions. What we 
call a superficial character is formed in this way, 
and none who are not careful to form and cherish 


DOING EVERYTHING TO A FINISH. 


115 


the habit of doing everything well may expect to 
be anything else than superficial. 

For nine years the young sculptor Thorwaldsen 
nearly starved in Italy. No one would buy his pieces 
of sculpture, though every one praised them. Home¬ 
sick, poor, discouraged, he decided to go back to 
Copenhagen to his old vocation, wood-carving, as 
no one wanted statues, however beautiful, unless the 
maker was famous. By a mistake in his passport 
he was detained one day, when to his astonishment 
Mr. Thomas Hope, an English banker, entered his 
studio and asked the price of his model in marble, 
Jason. He had made one before, and had broken 
it to pieces because no one would buy it. “ Six hun¬ 
dred Syneiis ” (twelve hundred dollars), he said, not 
daring to hope the stranger would buy it. “ That 
is not enough, you should ask eight hundred,” said 
the banker, and at once bought it. 

This was the turning-point in the youth’s life. In 
two years he was professor in the Royal Academy. 
Such was his love of excellence that he made thirty 
models of his Yenus before he was satisfied. He 
threw away the first, and worked a long time on the 
second. The Academy of his native city, Copen¬ 
hagen, sent him five hundred dollars as an expres¬ 
sion of appreciation for his work. 

Twenty-three years before, he left Copenhagen a 
poor, unknown lad; he returned, at the urgent re¬ 
quest of the King, the greatest living sculptor, and 
was created Counselor of State. 

He had plenty of friends when he no longer needed 


116 


SUCCESS. 


them, but no one would help him in all the years 
when he was nearly starving. Walter Scott came 
to pay his respects, and Mendelssohn became his 
friend, and would play for him in his studio while 
he worked. He loved his work so that he would 
refuse to dine with the King when busy. 

The world is always ready to help a man after he 
has conquered his obstacles and shown his ability to 
live without help, but it will sometimes let aspiring 
talent starve. 

It is the thing which we can do better than any 
one else, however trivial it may be, which commands 
success. 

When Samuel F. B. Morse, afterwards famous as 
the inventor of the electric telegraph, was a young 
painter studying in London, he made a drawing from 
a small cast of the Farnese Hercules, intending to 
offer it to Benjamin West as an example of his 
work. He spent a long time on it, being anxious 
for a favorable opinion, and thought he had made 
it perfect. After giving it a critical examination, 
Mr. West handed it back, saying, “Very well, sir, 
very well; go on and finish it.” “ But it is finished,” 
said the young artist. 

Mr. Morse saw the defects that Mr. West pointed 
out, and devoted another week to remedying them. 
When he carried the work back to the master, 
the latter was evidently much pleased with it, and 
lavished praises on the work; but he handed it 
back as before, with the same request that Morse 
should finish it. The young man by this time was 



SAMUEL F. B. MORSE. 

“ The world wants your best.” 
























































































































































- 







DOING EVERYTHING TO A FINISH. 


117 


nearly discouraged. “ Is it not yet finished ? ” he 
asked. 

Again he took it home, determined to perfect it, 
but showed it to West again with the same result. 
It still needed finishing. “ I cannot finish it,” said 
Mr. Morse in despair. “Well, I have tried you 
long enough,” said Mr. West; “you have learned 
more by this than you would have accomplished 
by half a dozen unfinished drawings in double 
the time. Finish one picture, sir, and you are a 
painter.” 

Southern planters visiting Newport before the Civil 
War would frequently pass in their drives an odd¬ 
looking man building a stone wall by the roadside. 
Aside from his strange costume, there was something 
which attracted attention in the earnest but rapid 
examination which he gave to each stone before 
laying it upon the wall. 

“Are you hunting for possible gold nuggets in that 
rock % ” asked an amused planter one day, “ or what 
do you expect to find?” “I am looking for its indi¬ 
viduality,” replied the laborer; “ every stone, like 
every human being, has certain peculiarities which 
adapt it thoroughly for certain purposes, but less per¬ 
fectly for others. He who would build a wall as it 
should be, must get acquainted with every stone he 
handles, and place it just where it was intended to 
go.” 

The Southerner, a college graduate, strongly 
opposed this view of the matter, and carelessly mis¬ 
quoted a passage from Locke in support of his posi- 


118 


SUCCESS. 


tion. The mason politely, but confidently corrected 
his opponent’s mistake, and showed that the quota¬ 
tion was really in his favor. Had the rocks spoken, 
the planter would not have been more astonished ; but 
he had begun the controversy, and he did not wish 
to yield in the presence of the ladies in the carriage, 
so he tried again and again to vanquish the modest 
workman by arguments which seemed to him unan¬ 
swerable. But he might just as well have tried to 
push back the ocean which washed the beach; from 
the deep of a well-stored mind, heaving with the 
feeling of an honest heart, rolled waves of logic 
which were irresistible. 

Charles Cornell might have a rough exterior, but 
he was as much of a man as he could make himself 
by using every moment of leisure and throwing all 
the force of his being into the work of self-improve¬ 
ment, and his personality was to that of the pam¬ 
pered, educated child of wealth before him as is 
the mountain breeze to the dry leaf. Others who 
accosted him in ridicule, learned to speak to him 
with profound respect, and to ask his opinion on 
important questions. Although always a laborer, 
he was economical; and, when he died at the age of 
about eighty, it was found that his savings, .with 
accumulated interest, aggregated a handsome for¬ 
tune, while his store of mental and moral wealth was 
phenomenal for one who had worked hard at his 
trade. 

It is difficult to estimate the influence upon a life 
of the early formed habit of doing everything to a 


DOING EVERYTHING TO A FINISH. 


119 


finish, not leaving it half done, or pretty nearly done, 
but completely done. Nature completes every little 
leaf, even every little rib, its edges and stem, as ex¬ 
actly and perfectly as though it were the only leaf to 
be made that year. Even the flower that blooms 
in the mountain dell, where no human eye will ever 
behold it, is made with the same perfection and ex¬ 
actness of form and outline, with the same delicate 
shade of color, with the same completeness of beauty, 
as though it were intended for royalty in the queen’s 
garden. “ Perfection to the finish,” is a motto which 
every youth should adopt. 

One of the maxims of Rothschild should be placed 
in every schoolroom, “ Do without fail that which 
you determine to do.” 

Two pieces of glass were sewed up in cotton flan¬ 
nel and packed in a large box filled with the finest 
curled hair, and that in another box filled with small 
springs made for the purpose, and the whole placed 
in a special parlor-car, and watched by men day and 
night till they reached their destination. What were 
those bits of glass? They were the forty-inch lenses 
of the Yerkes’ telescope of the University of Chicago, 
— the most precious pieces of glass ever made in the 
world. Without thoroughness in every detail, such 
glasses would be impossible. Such thoroughness 
characterized all other work of their maker, Alvan 
Clark, of Cambridge, Massachusetts. 

Strafford, the great minister of Charles I., took 
for his motto the one word “thorough.” Ben Jon- 
son in one of his plays makes a character say, u When 


120 


SUCCESS. 


I once take the humor of a thing, I am like your 
tailor’s needle, I go through with it.” 

It is no disgrace to be a shoemaker, but it is a dis¬ 
grace for a shoemaker to make bad shoes. 

Once two rival smiths discovered a mighty bowlder, 
under which, they had been told, was a treasure 
hidden by a crafty miser. They hastened away, each 
to his shop, to weld an iron crowbar. One, con¬ 
sumed by avarice, gave his work small time and 
careless blows, that his bar might be finished first, 
— as indeed it was. Running forth to the bowlder, 
he began forthwith to pry, but such was the folly 
of his lustful haste that he snapped his lever at a 
weak, poorly welded joint. Crazed with rage, he 
returned at once to his forge to mend the break. 
In the meantime the other smith came to the 
rock with a bar that was carefully made. Pro¬ 
ceeding with reason and a proper diligence, he 
lifted the stone, and, taking the treasure, went his 
way rejoicing. 

George Eliot, in “ Middlemarch,” was drawing 
a picture from life, when she described the gradual 
and disastrous collapse of Mr. Vincy’s prosperity 
from the time when he began to use the cheap dyes 
recommended by his sham-religious brother-in-law, 
which were soon found to rot the silks for which 
he had once been famous. 

On the other hand, the man who, like Adam Bede, 
always drives a nail straight, and planes a board true, 
is the one whom men employ at good wages, and is 
the maker of his own fortune. 


DOING EVERYTHING TO A FINISH. 


121 


A writer says that the humblest man or woman 
can live splendidly. That is the royal truth that all 
need to believe, especially you and I, who may have 
no particular “ mission ” and no great orbit. I 
should feel that the universe is not quite complete 
without my work well done. 

George Eliot expresses this thought finely in her 
poem called “ Stradivarius.” He was the famous 
old violin-maker, whose violins, some of them about 
two hundred years old, are now worth from $5000 
to $10,000, or several times their weight in gold. 
Says Stradivarius in the poem, 

“ If my hand slacked, 

I should rob God, — since he is fullest good, — 

Leaving a blank instead of violins. 

He could not make Antonio Stradivari’s violins 
Without Antonio.” 

The Athenian architects of the Parthenon finished 
the upper side of the matchless frieze as perfectly as 
the lower side, because the goddess Minerva saw 
that side. An old sculptor said of his carvings, 
whose backs were to be out of all possible inspec¬ 
tion, “ But the gods will see.” Every one of the 
five thousand statues in the cathedral of Milan is 
wrought as if God’s eye were on the sculptor. 

The works that have challenged the world’s admira¬ 
tion for ages have been the result of unwearied toil. 
Michael Angelo, who, if any man, had a right to 
rely on genius only, said of himself that all was due 
to study. 


122 


SUCCESS. 


“ During the nine years that I was his wife,” said 
the widow of the great painter Opie, “ I never saw 
him satisfied with one of his productions; and often, 
very often, have I seen him enter 11137- sitting-room 
and, throwing himself in an agony of despondence 
on the sofa, exclaim, ‘ I never, never shall be a 
painter as long as I live!’ ” It was this noble 
despair, which is never felt by vulgar artists, this 
pursuit of an ideal which, like the horizon, ever flew 
before him, that spurred Opie to higher and yet 
higher efforts, till he filled one of the highest niches 
in the artistic temple of his country. 

Dr. Way land took two years to compose his 
famous sermon on foreign missions.; but it is a 
masterpiece, worth a ton of ordinary sermons. 

Balzac, the great French novelist, sometimes 
worked a week on a single page. He wrote forty 
novels before he secured the attention of the public. 
Then he began to take still greater pains with every¬ 
thing he wrote; writing and rewriting, correcting 
and recorrecting, polishing and repolishing, until he 
had made each work a masterpiece. He demanded 
as many as a dozen different proofs from his printer, 
and made so many corrections and additions that 
these sometimes cost more than the original com¬ 
position. 

Buff on’s “ Studies of Nature” cost him fifty years 
of labor, and he recopied it eighteen times before 
he sent it to the printer. He composed in a singular 
manner, writing on large sheets of paper, on which, 
as in a ledger, five distinct columns were ruled. In 


DOING EVERYTHING TO A FINISH. 


123 


the first column he wrote down his thoughts ; in the 
second, he corrected, enlarged, and pruned; and so 
on until he had reached the fifth column, within 
which he finally wrote the result of his labors. But 
even after this, he would recompose a sentence 
twenty times, and once devoted fourteen hours to 
finding the proper word with which to round off 
a period. 

It was in remodeling old plays that Shakespeare 
developed his power as a dramatic poet. Byron’s 
“ Hours of Idleness ” formed so much training-work 
for “Childe Harold.” Everything must have a 
beginning, a middle, and an end; and the beginnings 
in art are seldom equal to the endings. Nearly all 
novel writers, for instance, have written a score or 
more of unsuccessful novels before they have written 
a successful one; and most painters have painted a 
score of poor pictures before they have painted a 
good one. These are their practice pieces, the work 
of their ’prentice hands; and when they once get 
their hands well in, performance becomes easy, 
noble conceptions come naturally, and success is 
certain. 

Franklin Fairbanks, maker of the celebrated Fair¬ 
banks’ scales, declared that he could take the place 
of any workman in his employ except the black¬ 
smith. 

The peasant boy Millet got his first inspiration 
for painting from the pictures in the old family 
Bible. Contrary to most fathers, his father told 
him, “Draw what you like; choose what you please; 


124 


SUCCESS. 


follow your own fancy.” He earned his living at 
first painting sign-boards. Starvation stared him in 
the face, and he had to give six drawings for a pair 
of shoes and one picture for a bed. During the ter¬ 
rible Devolution of 1848, Millet refused to degrade 
his noble art for money and still put his best work 
on pictures, even when he knew he would be obliged 
to sell them for a song. But his celebrated “Ange- 
lus ” was sold for one hundred and twenty-five 
thousand dollars. When young, his grandmother 
used to exhort him to “ paint for eternity.” 

A few years ago a high granite block was built in 
Boston, and when it was completed it was considered 
one of the best blocks in the city. To all appear¬ 
ance it was as lasting as the granite of which it was 
built; tenants were numerous. The builders had the 
utmost faith in it. They could “ pile it full of pig 
lead.” But, alas, before it was half stocked with 
goods it went down, filling the street with stone, 
bricks, broken timbers, and bales of goods; and 
several persons were killed. We saw the block 
when completed; we saw it in ruins. Why did it 
fall ? Down in the cellar were a few feet of an old 
wall, and to save a few dollars it was left, and when 
the enormous weight of the structure began to bear 
upon it, it could not stand the pressure, and the en¬ 
tire block fell in ruins. A hundred or two hundred 
dollars’ worth of work saved in the foundation was 
over a hundred thousand dollars’ loss in the end, and 
that was but a trifle in comparison with the lives 
sacrificed which no money could replace. 


DOING EVERYTHING TO A FINISH. 


125 


The Pemberton mill, at Lawrence, Massachusetts, 
fell while in full operation. The ruins accidentally 
took fire, and one hundred and twenty-five lives were 
sacrificed. It was the result of the grossest careless¬ 
ness of the superintendent, or master-builder. Iron 
columns were put in that were defective in casting. 
They were thin as paper on one side and as thick as 
a plank on the other, when they should have been 
true to a hair-line all around. When the pressure 
came upon them they were quickly broken. All this 
came by trying to save a little money by getting 
work done cheaply. No man can afford to cheat 
himself in the foundation. So it is in character 
building. Every one must look well to the founda¬ 
tion. If that is defective, he cannot be very strong, 
and may fall at an unexpected moment. 

When the great iron bridge that spans the Father 
of Waters at St. Louis was built, the utmost care 
was exercised in putting down the piers, to get them 
on a solid foundation. The coffer dams were sunk 
until they struck the rock, and then the workmen 
cut down into the solid rock for the blocks of the 
first layer of stones, which were bolted down. The 
layers were cemented and doweled together, making 
a piece of masonry as firm and solid as though it were 
hewn out of a quarry, one solid block. It will stand 
for centuries. Young man, lay your foundation deep. 
Go down to the bed rock! 

“ Dig, dig the foundation deep, young man, 

Plant firmly the outer wall; 

Let the props be strong and the roof be high.” 


126 


SUCCESS. 


“Build it well, whate’er you do ; 

Build it straight and strong and true; 

Build it clean and high and broad; 

Build it for the eye of God.” 

The great secret of making the labors of life easy 
is to do each duty every day. If you let a burden of 
arrears accumulate, it will discourage you. If you 
have five things to do each day, they are easily done; 
but if you put them off with the idea that you can do 
fifty on the tenth day, you will probably fail. 

If a conqueror going through a country should 
leave a fort here and there, which he found it espe¬ 
cially hard to take, and push on, would not the en¬ 
trenched enemy be likely to harass him later? 
“ Skipped points ” in one’s work and business train¬ 
ing are sure to give endless trouble and mortification. 
Even a king can look back with regret on a youth 
wasted in idleness. When Louis XIV. of France 
came to the throne and found himself with an uncul¬ 
tured mind in the midst of the accomplished society 
of the age, he bitterly reproached the guardians 
of his childhood, because they had suffered him to 
grow up in such ignorance. “ Was there not 
birch enough in the forests of Fontainebleau?” he 
exclaimed. 

William M. Evarts read his Greek Testament so 
thoroughly while fitting for college, that he was in 
the habit, through life, of readily repeating any pas¬ 
sage to which allusion was made. Several of our 
best scholars committed and recited the whole of 
Virgil without carrying a book into the recitation 


DOING EVERYTHING TO A FINISH- 127 

room. One of them, at least, did the same with the 
whole of Horace. 

The Harvard examination papers give the direc¬ 
tion, “Read over a passage several times before 
attempting to write your translation.” This saves 
time in the end. 

The great secret of being successful and accurate 
as a student, next to perseverance, is the constant 
habit of reviewing. 

In recalling some instances of his childhood, Lord 
Macaulay said, “ When a boy, I began to read very 
earnestly, but at the foot of every page I stopped, 
and obliged myself to give an account of what I had 
read on that page. At first I had to read it three 
or four times before I got my mind firmly fixed; 
but now, after I have read a book through once, I 
can almost recite it from beginning to end.” 

Wyttenbach says that this practice will have “an 
incredible effect in assisting your progress ” ; adding 
that it must be practiced with the utmost accuracy 
and thoroughness. There is no business, no vocation, 
which will not permit a man so inclined to give a 
little time every day to the studies of his youth. 
One-quarter of an hour a day will keep a man’s 
studies fresh in his mind, besides advancing him in 
classical study. It may be irksome at first, but onty 
at first. 

It is such an odd fancy of a school-boy, that he is 
somehow “gettingthe better of the teacher” when 
he slips through a lesson without learning it. The 
great trouble with the young men and women of 


128 


SUCCESS. 


to-day is “ superficial omniscience.” Their “ spread 
of knowledge” is so thin that the bread shows 
beneath. 

One great defect of the age is want of thorough¬ 
ness. ITow seldom you find a young man or woman 
who is willing to take time to prepare for his life 
work. A little education is all they want, a little 
smattering of books, and then they are ready for 
business. 

Girls often entertain very incorrect ideas of the 
mental culture they ought to receive. One neglected 
the study of arithmetic because “ women do not need 
it.” Some years since, she married a merchant. He 
is frequently absent from home ; and, when persons 
call on business with her husband that requires some 
knowledge of numbers, she is obliged to decline doing 
the business, or else leave all the figures to be cast up 
by the callers themselves. We have read of another 
who neglected the fundamental branches generally, 
believing that certain “ accomplishments ” only were 
necessary for a woman in her sphere. In writing her 
letters she formed the habit of underscoring words 
that she did not know how to spell, that, in case her 
spelling was wrong, it might appear to the reader as 
a jest. 

Harper's Bazar shows why women do not succeed 
as well as men in many kinds of labor, for which they 
seem, and claim to be, adapted. According to the story, 
the particular business selected was wood-engraving. 
The inquirer consulted one of the most experienced 
engravers in the city. “Don’t you see the diffi- 


DOING EVERYTHING TO A FINISH. 


129 


culty?” he asked, with great kindness and interest. 
“ No,” was the response; “you must instruct me.” 
“Well,” he answered, “I have employed women 
here very often, and I wish I could feel more en¬ 
couraged. But the truth is that when a young man 
begins his work, he feels that it is his life-business. 
He is to cut his future out of the little blocks before 
him. Wife, family, home, happiness, are all to be 
carved out by his hand, and he settles steadily and 
earnestly to his labor, determining to master it, and 
with every incitement spurring him on. He cannot 
marry till he knows his trade. It is exactly the 
other way with a girl. She may be as poor as the 
youth, and as wholly dependent upon her labor for 
her living, but she feels that she will probably be 
married by and by, and that then she must give up 
her wood-engraving. So she goes on listlessly; she 
does not feel that her happiness depends upon it. 
She will marry and then her husband’s wages will 
support her. She may not say so, but she thinks so, 
and it spoils the work.” 

A writer in the Woman's Journal some time since 
said that she failed to prosper in New York and 
Boston for six years, because she did not know how 
to do any one thing well. She was offered fifteen 
dollars a week to work upon an encyclopaedia, with 
a promise of twenty-five or thirty if she proved com¬ 
petent. For a month she worked for herself and her 
children with the energy of desperation, only to be 
told that her want of knowledge made her services 
useless. She has barely lived while seeing chance 

IC 


130 


SUCCESS. 


after chance glide by, which she coulu not f^pime 
because she had not the special skill or knowledge 
required. But she has learned wisdom by which she 
has profited in the education of her children. “ Each 
of them,” she says, “ knows one thing well ”; and 
thus both have good prospects of success. One is a 
teacher of the usual English branches and the other 
is a teacher of music. 

“We have continually to go abroad for skilled 
labor,” said an intelligent gentleman to the Senate 
Committee on Labor. “ How do you account for 
that fact?” asked the chairman. “It is due to the 
general antipathy of young Americans to learning 
a trade,” he answered. 

In England, it requires seven long years of appren¬ 
ticeship before one can set up in business for himself. 
So you can write it down as one of your maxims that 
“ it costs money to learn how to do business success¬ 
fully.” 

“ There is a science in doing little things just right,” 
said a business maft. “ I had two office boys whose 
main duty was to bring me notes or cards that were 
sent to me, or to fetch things that I wanted to use. 
One of these boys, when sent for a book or anything 
heavy, would walk rapidly by my desk and toss it 
indefinitely toward me. If it happened to miss me 
and land on the desk, he seemed to think it was all 
right. If it fell on the floor, he always managed to 
fall over it in his eagerness to pick it up. If he had 
a letter or a card to deliver he would come up to the 
desk and stand there scanning it with minute care. 


DOING EVERYTHING TO A FINISH. 131 

This being- concluded, he would flip it airily in my 
direction and depart. 

“The other boy always came and went so that I 
could hardly hear him. If he brought a book, ink- 
stand, or box of letters, he would set it down quietly 
at one side of the desk. Letters and cards were al¬ 
ways laid, not tossed, right where my eye would 
fall on them directly. If there were any doubt in 
his mind whether he ought to lay a letter on my 
desk or deliver it to some other person in the office, 
he always did his thinking before he came near me, 
and did not stand annoyingly at my elbow studying 
the letter. That boy understood the science of little 
things. When New Year’s day came, he got ten 
dollars. The other boy was discharged.” 

A young man was highly recommended to a mer¬ 
cantile house in New York City, but he had occasion 
to write a letter to the firm, in which he wrote “ Toos- 
day ” for Tuesday, and this inaccuracy prevented him 
from securing the situation. 

Franklin says, “There is no place in the social 
or business world where a poor speller is not placed 
at a disadvantage.” 

America is ahead of other nations in many things, 
but it certainly is not ahead in the thorough, sys¬ 
tematic, careful preparation of every youth for his 
life work. 

It is rare to find an English book-keeper who can¬ 
not use short-hand, or a German accountant who 
cannot write well several languages; but American 
boys do not consider these accomplishments neces- 


132 


SUCCESS. 


sary. They expect to jump into a position, as a rule, 
with but very little preparation, and then they grum¬ 
ble if they are not advanced rapidly. 

Canon Farrar says that young Englishmen com¬ 
plain bitterly because German clerks are getting 
their places. A wealthy member of Parliament told 
him that if he advertised for a clerk who knew 
enough of foreign languages to conduct a wide busi¬ 
ness correspondence, he could find plenty of German 
youths who were competent. They had come to 
England, and worked for nothing in order to learn 
English. They could often speak and write three 
or four languages, whereas the English applicants 
really knew nothing but English. He said, also, 
that when six o’clock came every English clerk 
would jump from his seat the moment the clock 
struck, shut his book with a bang, hurry it into his 
desk, and be off in a moment to his gymnasium or 
his bicycle, while the German clerks would quietly 
wait and finish whatever they were doing before 
they left. 

Germans are naturally systematic. An American 
youth, as a rule, cannot wait to prepare himself for 
his life work; he is so anxious to get on, to forge 
ahead, that he cannot bear to spend years in prepa¬ 
ration. He wants to see results at once. German 
youths do not stop in the stores and banks of France 
and England; they are fast making their way into 
our American institutions, and their superior skill, 
from long training, makes their services valued. 
They are not so restless as our boys, not so impatient 


DOING EVERYTHING TO A FINISH. 


133 


for promotion. They are willing to do their work 
well, to put their conscience into it. 

Few American boys want to learn trades, or to 
serve apprenticeships. The typical young American 
does all sorts of things; gets “ a job ” wherever he 
can, and watches for the “ main chance,” and when 
he sees it, he tries for it regardless of fitness or pre¬ 
vious training. 

Perhaps there is no other country in the world 
where so much poor work is done as in America. 
Half-trained masons and carpenters throw buildings 
together to sell, which sometimes fortunately fall 
before they are occupied. Half-trained medical stu¬ 
dents perform bungling operations and butcher 
their patients, because they are not willing to take 
time for thorough preparation. Half-trained lawyers 
stumble through their cases and make their clients 
pay for experience which the law school should have 
given. Ilalf-trained clergymen bungle away in the 
pulpit and disgust their intelligent and cultured pa¬ 
rishioners ; in fact, many an American youth is will¬ 
ing to stumble through life half prepared for his 
work, and then blame society because he is a failure. 
There is nothing more needed in our public institu¬ 
tions than the teaching of thoroughness. Nature 
works for centuries to perfect a rose or a fruit; but 
an American youth is ready to try a difficult case in 
court after a few months’ desultory law reading, or 
to undertake a critical surgical operation, upon which 
a precious life depends, after listening to two or three 
courses of medical lectures. 


134 


SUCCESS. 


The trouble with us is that we live too fast; 
everything here is pusher or pushed. Every man we 
meet seems to be trying to catch a train. Every¬ 
thing is done in a feverish spirit. Students are 
rushed through school and forced through college. 
Few take time to do anything properly. 

An educator, who insisted upon cultivating the 
observing faculties of pupils, tried an experiment on 
the members of a large school for the benefit of their 
teacher, lie asked the pupils to tell him the differ¬ 
ence between a cat and a dog. Probably the first 
thought of each pupil was “that is easy enough”; 
but it did not prove so easy after all. Not one 
scholar could answer the question. They had never 
observed the difference between the two animals 
closely enough to tell exactly what it was, so they 
sat in silence. 

A gentleman of excellent reputation as a scholar 
was nominated for a professorship in one of our New 
England colleges; but in his correspondence so much 
bad spelling was found that his name was dropped. 

More than twenty ways of spelling “Cyrus” were 
found on the Harvard examination papers at one 
time, such as, “ Cyreus,” “ Cyrous,” “ Cuyus,” “ Scy- 
rus.” “Too” was misspelled by seventy per cent, of 
those who used it in a narrative. “ Which ” and 
“ whose” were spelled in fifty or a hundred different 
ways, as “ whitch,” “ wlitch,” “ whish,” “ wich,” and 
“who’s,” “ hoose,” “whouse.” “Scholar” was ren¬ 
dered in over two hundred ways; for example, “ skol- 
lar,” “ scholare,” “ skooler.” 


DOING EVERYTHING TO A FINISH. 


135 


Some wrote “ bruther ” for “ brother,” u bimeby ” 
for “ by and by,” “dorter” for “ daughter,” and “puy ” 
for “ pie.” 

I once heard of a young girl who studied Latin 
only two weeks. She said she just wanted to get an 
insight into it. 

Thoroughness implies accuracy. The man who is 
never quite sure, “thinks perhaps,” “imagines,” 
“ guesses,” or “ presumes,” is no man to trust. His 
foundations are built on sand. 

Be thorough. Know the top and bottom; inside 
and outside; cause, cost, and effect; and both ends of 
everything you are required to handle. In no coun¬ 
try in the world are the possibilities of a successful 
career more numerous than in the United States. 
Be careful to choose what you have a bent for; but, 
when started, let “this one thing I do” be your 
motto. “ Keep everlastingly at it.” Remember what 
Macaulay said, “The world generally gives its ad¬ 
miration, not to the man who does what nobody else 
ever attempts to do, but to the man who does best 
what multitudes do well.” 

Habit works powerfully for or against us. It is a 
good servant, but a tyrannical master. If a boy 
forms the habit of half doing things, or doing them 
in a slovenly manner, or never quite finishing any¬ 
thing he undertakes, or if he never quite works out 
his problems and lessons, relying upon his skill in de¬ 
ceit and shuffling to get through, he will find that 
these defects will mar his whole life. He may go to 
college, but he will be known there as the boy with 


136 


SUCCESS. 


half-learned lessons and poor recitations, who barely 
skins through his examinations and perhaps gets his 
diploma by special favor. If he enters business, there 
is always some defect in all his transactions. He is 
slovenly in his habits, lacks order and system. He 
never quite knows where anything is or exactly how 
he stands. He is always blundering, is a little late 
at the bank, and his paper goes to protest. He never 
thinks it worth while to be exacting in small things. 
IIis books are inaccurate, his papers and letters are 
never filed, his desk is always loaded, and confusion 
reigns everywhere. Such a man is always a failure 
in life and demoralizes his employees. Every one 
who works for such a man catches the contagion; 
and, knowing that he is not exacting, accurate, care¬ 
ful, thorough, they soon come to see things as their 
master does, and these defects and weaknesses are 
perpetuated. 

If one of these boys, who has never learned to do 
anything quite right or to quite finish anything he 
undertakes, studies medicine, his knowledge is always 
defective. lie never quite understands his patient’s 
case, makes a hurried diagnosis, makes mistakes in his 
prescriptions, is careless about his collections; in fact, 
he is a failure because of what seemed a little weak¬ 
ness in his boyhood. 

What is put into the first of life is put into the 
whole of life. Many a surgeon has lost a patient 
because of his lack of faithfulness when he was at 
the medical school. He did not thoroughly under¬ 
stand anatomy, he did not quite know where the 


DOING EVERYTHING TO A FINISH. 


137 


artery lay, or where he could cut with safety. He 
did not realize that a precious life might be lost, if 
he let his knife slip but the thickness of a piece of 
paper. 

If such a boy becomes a lawyer, he never goes to 
the bottom of his case. He is always making blun¬ 
ders in his writs, making little omissions in his con¬ 
tracts, which cost his clients dear. He writes a 
will so clumsily that the whole estate is sent where 
the hard-working owner never intended it should go. 
In fact, the habits of inaccuracy and slovenliness of 
his boyhood are dragged through his whole life, 
marring his reputation and causing his clients no 
end of anxiety and loss. 

Gladstone’s children were taught to accomplish to 
the end whatever they might begin, no matter how 
insignificant the undertaking might be. 

Gladstone has a marvelous faculty of mastering 
the contents of a book by glancing over its pages. 
He seems to drink in the author’s meaning, to di¬ 
vine his thoughts by catching here and there a sen¬ 
tence,— a sort of instinct which leads him directly 
to the author’s goal, so that in half an hour he will 
sometimes be able to talk more intelligently about 
the book than one of those exacting readers who 
stop to take in every word, could give after an 
entire day’s reading. Joseph Cook has this rare 
faculty of getting the thought out of a book, much 
as a bee sucks honey from a flower. This power 
was acquired by a method resembling Macaulay’s. 

While it is of the greatest importance to learn to 


138 


SUCCESS. 


do everything well, yet there is another half to this 
great truth which is also of importance in this rapid 
age. Some people magnify the importance in small 
things of the principle that if a thing is worth doing 
at all, it is worth doing well, and they waste a great 
deal of time upon trifles, instead of putting their 
work where it will tell. In other words, they do 
not discriminate between important and unimportant 
things. They do one thing as well as another, and 
their painstaking in unessential things is painful. 
Such people usually do not advance very far in life. 
Their time is all swallowed up in infinite painstaking 
upon unimportant matters. Common sense is the 
best guide. 

Washington Irving tells of a Dutchman who, hav¬ 
ing to leap a ditch, went back three miles that he 
might have a good run, and found himself so com¬ 
pletely out of breath when he arrived at the ditch 
that he was obliged to sit down on the wrong side 
to rest. 

We should not forget that time is the most pre¬ 
cious of all life’s gifts, that it is money, yes, more than 
money ; for millions cannot buy a moment. There 
is a great difference between doing important things 
well and that unfortunate habit of “ perpetual fussi¬ 
ness ” about the manner of doing every little thing. 
The habit of splitting hairs over non-essentials is 
almost as unfortunate as the habit of “ slouchiness ” 
or “slighting” one’s work. 

“Whatever I have tried to do in life,” said a suc¬ 
cessful man, “ I have tried with all my heart to do 


DOING EVERYTHING TO A FINISH. 


139 


well; whatever I have devoted myself to, I have 
devoted myself to completely; in great aims and 
in small, I have always been thoroughly in earnest.” 
Build slow and sure; ’tis for life, young man. 

In the elder days of art, 

Builders wrought with greatest care 
Eacli minute and unseen part, 

For the gods see everywhere. — Longfellow. 




* 


CHAPTER VI. 

“help yourself society.” 


Self-reliance and self-denial will teach a man to drink ont of his own 
cistern, and eat his own sweetbread, and to learn and labor truly to get 
his own living, and carefully to save and expend the good things com¬ 
mitted to his trust. — Bacon. 

Let no one discourage self-reliance: it is, of all the rest, the greatest 
quality of true manliness. — Kossuth. 

If there he a faith that can remove mountains, it is faith in one’s own 
power. — Marie Ebnei'-Eschenbach. 

The truest help we can render an afflicted man is not to take his bur¬ 
den from him, but to call out his best energy, that he may be able to 
bear the burden.— Phillips Brooks. 

A sparse population and want make every man his own valet, cook, 
butcher, and soldier, and the habit of supplying his own needs educates 
the body to wonderful performances. — Emerson. 

Drive on your own track. — Plutarch. 

The hand that follows intellect can achieve. — Michael Angelo. 

To be thrown upon one’s own resources, is to be cast into the very lap 
of fortune. — Franklin. 

They 

Know not, nor ever can, the generous pride 
That glows in him who on himself relies. 

His joy is not that he has got his crown, 

But that the power to win the crown is his. — lingers. 

It is not always the highest talent that thrives best. Mediocrity, 
with tact, will outweigh talent oftentimes. — Joseph Cook. 

Are you in earnest? Seize this very minute. 

What you can do, or dream you can, begin it. — Goethe. 

“We must move our nest at once!” exclaimed 
four little larks in terror, when their mother came 
home; “ we overheard the farmer say that he would 
get his neighbors to help cut the grain in this field.” 

“Oh, there is no danger yet,” said the mother, 
“ we can rest easy.” But when she returned the 
next night the young ones were all excited again. 

140 


U HELP YOURSELF SOCIETY.” 141 

“ The farmer was very angry because his neighbors 
didn’t come to help him,” said the larks, “and de¬ 
clared he would get his relatives to help him to¬ 
morrow.” 

“There is no danger yet,” replied the mother. 
That evening the little birds were very cheerful. 

“ No news ? ” asked the mother. “ Nothing impor¬ 
tant,” was the reply ; “ the farmer was angry because 
his relatives didn’t come to help him and declared that 
he would cut the grain himself.” 

“We must leave our nest to-night! ” exclaimed the 
old bird; “ when a man decides to do a thing him¬ 
self, and to do it at once, you may be pretty sure the 
thing will be done.” 

Help yourself, and all the world will help you. 
Prove that you can do without folks, and they will 
beg to give you a lift. 

“ Note that gas jet on the city street battling with 
the storm and darkness. There! it is gone. No, 
you are mistaken ; for see, it flashes out again more 
brilliantly than ever. The flame is fed from within.” 

Every lad should join early that most excellent 
club, called the “ Help Yourself Society.” Who can 
but despise the strong boy who lounges about at 
his ease, in his own home, calling upon a weary 
mother or busy sisters to wait on him. 

Bismarck was returning home with a friend after 
a pleasant day’s tramp, and they had to cross a shal¬ 
low stream. Bismarck got across all right on some 
convenient stones, but his companion, who was less 
careful, waded into the water and §0Qn found that 


142 


SUCCESS. 


lie was sinking into the quicksand. He made frantic 
efforts to release himself, but in vain. Then he wept, 
raved, stretched out his hands imploringly to Bis¬ 
marck, and finally gave himself up as lost. Bismarck 
came to his rescue in a very strange way. He seized 
his gun, loaded it, pulled back the hammer, and, put¬ 
ting on a most ferocious look, took careful aim at his 
friend. In his excitement and terror the poor fellow 
made a determined spring and gained the bank. Bis¬ 
marck laughed heartily, threw down his gun, and as¬ 
sured his friend that his intention had been to save his 
life by compelling him to put forth one mighty effort. 

“How do you teach your pupils to paint? ” asked 
some one of the artist Opie. “ As you teach puppies 
to swim,” was the reply; “ by chucking them in.” 

There is sound truth in JSsop’s old fable of “Jupi¬ 
ter and the Wagoner,” where a teamster, whose 
wheel has got fast in the mud, is pictured by the 
Greek moralist as shouting to Jupiter for aid; upon 
which the king of the gods, looking down from his 
Olympian throne, bids the indolent clown cease his 
supplications and put his own shoulder to the wheel. 
Fortune always smiles on those who roll up their 
sleeves and put their shoulders to the wheel. 

“ The elevator has stopped running; use the stairs,” 
was the sign which confronted a man who wished to 
go to the top of a large building in New York. He 
uttered an exclamation of impatience, mounted five 
flights of stairs and stopped to rest. 

“An elevator is a very handy thing,” he solilo¬ 
quized; “but, after all, I’ve never found any eleva- 


“HELP YOUliSELF SOCIETY.” 143 

tors in life; I’ve had to climb to every place worth 
reaching*. And now I think it over, I wish it were 
so with everybody, for then no one would rise any 
higher than he deserves to go. I shall use the eleva¬ 
tor when I can, to save walking up and down stairs 
in such a building as this, but I’m glad that we have 
to climb to rise in the world.” 

“ Send us a man who can swim,” wrote a western 
church committee; “the last minister we had was 
drowned in trying to get across a swollen stream to 
keep an appointment, and we don’t want any more 
ministers who can’t swim.” 

When P. T. Barnutn was thirteen years old he 
made his first visit to New York, driving a herd of 
cattle from Bethel to the old Bull’s Head Tavern. 
The great city turned his head completely. He lost 
all his money, got into several scrapes, and went 
back to Bethel in disgrace and disgust. When he 
was fourteen, his father died, bequeathing nothing 
but a lot of debts to the family. Penniless, and not 
too well clothed, Phineas started out in the world for 
himself. So poor was he, that he had to borrow 
shoes to wear at his father’s funeral. He found work 
in a store near his native village, at six dollars a 
month. In 1827, he opened an eating-house in 
Brooklyn. The next year he returned to Bethel 
with one hundred and twenty dollars capital, and 
started a fruit and candy shop. Soon after he was 
of age he published a newspaper, the Herald of Free¬ 
dom. In 1834, he went back to New York, but met 
with little success. The next year, however, he 


SUCCESS. 


144 

seemed to linci his true work. For one thousand 
dollars he purchased Joyce Ileth, an old negress, who 
was said to be one hundred and sixty years old, and 
to have been a nurse of George Washington. It is 
doubtful if Barn urn investigated the correctness of 
these claims closely. He exhibited her all over the 
country, and made considerable money, until the old 
woman died, and his income was cut off. 

But he had found his bent in the show business, 
and engaged with a traveling circus. In 1841, he 
purchased the American Museum at Broadway and 
Ann Street, without a dollar of capital. “ What will 
you pay for it with ?” asked a friend. “ Brass,” he 
replied. By shrewd advertising devices Barnum 
attracted crowds to his museum, which, by great 
economy, he paid for in one year. 

While abroad exhibiting Tom Thumb, he engaged 
the famous Jenny Lind, who was then setting all 
Europe wild with her marvelous singing. He 
agreed to give her $150,000 and all expenses 
of herself and servants for one hundred and fifty 
concerts in America. He deposited in London 
$187,000 to insure fulfillment of his share of this 
great contract. He had advertised Jenny Lind so 
shrewdly that her reception in Hew York was such 
as had scarcely been given to royalty itself. The 
receipts for her first concert in Castle Garden 
were nearly $18,000. 

Mr. Barnum generously insisted on giving the 
great songstress, over and above the contract price, 
one-half of the receipts above $5,500 at each con- 


HELP YOURSELF SOCIETY. 


145 


u 

cert. The contract was broken, however, after 
ninety-five concerts had been given. The total 
receipts amounted to $712,161, of which Jenny Lind 
received $176,675, and Mr. Barnum $535,486. 

Notwithstanding Mr. Barnum’s great prosperity, 
he became involved in the Jerome Clock Company, 
which failed and swept away his whole fortune. He 
was not the man to be discouraged, however, for he 
had met and overcome too many difficulties to be 
disheartened. In a manly way he paid all his debts 
and began again. He traveled through Europe, 
lecturing and collecting curiosities. 

He returned to the old American Museum, which 
he conducted on a scale grander than ever. He ran¬ 
sacked the world for animals for his menagerie. lie 
found a bride for Tom Thumb, and the dwarfish 
couple attracted great attention. In 1865, however, 
he again came to grief: the American Museum was 
totally destroyed by fire. Nothing daunted, he 
started another museum on Broadway, but after 
three years this met the same fate. He retired from 
business, and began lecturing on “Business Success,” 
“ Temperance,” etc. 

Later he organized what has become famous as 
“ The Greatest Show on Earth,” which has a 
world-wide reputation. Jumbo, the largest elephant 
ever seen, he purchased from the Royal Zoological 
Gardens in London for $10,000, and brought him 
to America, notAvithstanding the great opposition of 
the royal family and the press of England. After 
being seen by hundreds of thousands of people, 


146 


SUCCESS. 


Jumbo was killed in a railroad accident in 1885, while 
endeavoring to save another elephant from harm. 

Barnum was once in great danger of becoming a 
drunkard, but he saw the inevitable ruin it would 
bring upon him, and by indomitable will-power he 
became a total abstainer. He traveled extensively 
in the cause of temperance, and delivered hundreds of 
lectures, all at his own expense. He was prompted 
by a generous desire to warn others of the fate he 
had so narrowly escaped. 

An old Horseman said, “ I believe neither in idols 
nor demons; I put my sole trust in my own body 
and soul.” The ancient crest of a pick-axe with the 
motto, “ Either I will find a way or make one,” would 
be a good coat of arms for youth. 

From two books and his own experience and im¬ 
agination, John Bunyan evolved the greatest allegory 
the world has ever seen. 

What a great lesson he taught in that dark, dingy, 
filthy prison, by accomplishing such results that a 
whole world was influenced! Ho Oxford or Cam¬ 
bridge graduate or professor, no literary man of 
England, no great scholar with all the advantages of 
libraries and helps from liberal learning, with all the 
assistance of high culture, had ever accomplished 
so much as this poor, despised, unknown, ignorant 
tinker, in a jail, with only two books, —the Bible 
and Fox’s “Book of Martyrs.” 

Bunyan was determined not to lose his time just 
because he was in prison; he would not sit down 
and bemoan his lot and curse his persecutors; he 


“help yourself SOCIETY.” 147 

would not wait for an opportunity to do great 
things, but would use even the mean chances of a 
prisoner. 

He was responsible only for the opportunities he 
did have, and he was bound to make the most of 
them, — to make the most out of his two books and 
his own experience. In one way the prison was a 
great help to him: he was thrown upon his own 
resources; he could not consult libraries, nor seek 
advice from others; a great necessity confronted 
him; he was forced to self-help. All his props had 
been knocked out from under him; he was compelled 
to develop his own muscles, to stand upon his own 
feet. 

He delved in the Bible, and found in its precious 
depths pearls which he had never dreamed of before. 
What richness! what beauty! the very prison seemed 
to him transformed into a palace. In the depths of 
his own mind he discovered, too, vast treasures which 
he had never found in commentaries, in books, or 
in helps. 

He found his imagination such a storehouse as he 
had never dreamed of before. It seemed to him 
that the real world, after all, was within, not with¬ 
out ; that the true world was the subjective world; 
his very body seemed to him composed of living 
thoughts. The more he contemplated, the more he 
delved and mined in the depths of his own nature, 
the grander and more beautiful did the inward world 
appear to him. Instead of a dearth of material for 
his writings, he was deluged with a flood of imagery 


148 


SUCCESS. 


of the rarest beauty. He found, after all, that real 
being is within, not without. 

The steam engine was of little value until it 
emerged from the state of theory, and was taken 
in hand by practical mechanics. What a story of 
patient, laborious investigation, of difficulties encoun¬ 
tered and overcome by heroic industry, could be told 
of this wonderful machine! It has been called a 
monument of the power of self-help in man. Its 
history includes the biography of Savary, the Cornish 
miner; of Newcomen, the Dartmouth blacksmith; 
of Cawley, the glazier; of Potter, the engine boy; of 
Smeaton, the engineer; and, towering above all, of 
the laborious, patient, never-tiring James Watt, the 
maker of mathematical instruments. 

Sir Richard Arkwright never saw the inside of a 
school-house until he was twenty years of age. 

Thomas Ball, the famous sculptor, who has done 
such a great work in adorning his native city, swept 
the Boston Museum when a lad. Andrew Jackson 
was the son of a poor Irish emigrant. 

An American who is now a high authority in San¬ 
scrit and Zend, was without early educational advan¬ 
tages, and began the study of these languages when 
he was employed for over seventeen hours a day col¬ 
lecting fares on a street car. 

Daniel Webster wrote to his grandson : “ You can 
never learn without your own efforts. All the 
teachers in the world can never make a scholar of 
you, if you do not apply yourself with all your 
might.” 


“help yourself society.” 149 

It was said of a certain wise man that he could 
be silent in ten languages. Elihu Burritt could be 
silent in forty languages, and much of his linguistic 
proficiency was acquired while he was working 
long days at the heaviest work in a blacksmith 
shop. 

It is not the man of the greatest natural vigor and 
capacity who achieves the highest results, but he who 
employs his powers with the greatest industry and 
the most carefully disciplined skill, — the skill that 
comes by labor, application, and experience. Many 
men in his time knew far more than Watt; but none 
labored so assiduously to turn all that he did know 
to useful, practical purposes. 

Some young men in college spend more than 
$5,000 a year, while some of their class-mates have 
to get along with less than $500. But usually the 
one who spends the least money is the better scholar, 
and will be the richer of the two half a dozen years 
after they are graduated. One goes to college be¬ 
cause he has a rich father, while the other goes to 
secure a good education, and is willing to fight pov¬ 
erty to gain his end. 

Success is in the student, not in the university ; 
greatness is in the individual, not in the library; 
power is in the man, not in his crutches. A great 
man will make great opportunities, even out of the 
commonest and meanest situations. If a man is not 
superior to his education, is not larger than his 
crutches or his helps, if he is not greater than the 
means of his culture, which are but the sign-boards 


150 


SUCCESS. 


pointing the way to success, he will never reach 
greatness. Not learning, not culture alone, not 
helps and opportunities, but personal power and ster¬ 
ling integrity, make a man great. 

Only once in the history of the United States, it is 
said, has the mantle of the father rested with equal 
honors on the son of a distinguished statesman. 
That son was John Quincy Adams. What is the 
record of the sons of the other presidents? What 
is the story of the sons of other public men, such as 
Clay, Webster, and scores of illustrious orators who 
have electrified thousands with their eloquence? 

Most of them were dead to all that was noble and 
grand in the lives of their fathers, dead to ambition, 
dead to all lofty impulse, unmissed from the society 
of the great, their graves unmarked by monuments 
commemorating any great service to their country 
or mankind. 

A father can give his son money, influence, and a 
good position. He can buy him a partnership in a 
prosperous money-making establishment. He can do 
all that, but he cannot make a success of his son. 
The son must do that himself. The man who works 
by proxy is apt to find himself in the position of 
Miles Standish, who sent his friend John Alden to 
propose marriage for him to Priscilla. Everybody 
knows that John, not Miles, married the Puritan 
maiden, and the young man who depends on some 
one else to work out the problem of success for him 
is taking big chances; for the other fellow, in all 
probability, will be the successful one. 


“help yourself society.” 151 

Luck is waiting for something to turn up; labor, 
with keen eye and strong will, will turn something 
up. Luck lies in bed and wishes the postman would 
bring him news of a legacy ; labor turns out at six 
o’clock, and, with busy pen or ringing hammer, lays 
a foundation for a competence. Luck whines; labor 
whistles. Luck relies on charms; labor depends on 
character. Luck slips down to indigence; labor 
strides upward to independence. 

A story is told of a steady, industrious young man, 
who worked at $18 a month, driving a team of oxen 
in the oil regions of Pennsylvania. His aunt, for 
whom he had worked, died, leaving him an estate 
worth $2,000,000, and also a royalty of $2,000 a 
day. Becoming so suddenly rich, and not know¬ 
ing what else to do with his money, he decided to 
travel. 

He knew nothing of the great world outside the 
narrow bounds in which he had lived, so he hired 
several young men to go with him, to help enjoy the 
sights and spend the money. 

Arriving at Columbus, Ohio, he got into a quarrel 
with a hackman about the fare, which he finally 
settled by buying the hack and hiring the driver to 
take the party to the hotel. Here he engaged a 
whole floor and the party lay drunk in the parlor all 
night. 

Next day he bought horses, selected a driver to 
take them over the city, and, when there were no 
more sights, presented the driver with both hack 
and horses. He went from city to city, astonishing 


152 


SUCCESS. 


alike boot-blacks, hotel-runners, and table-waiters 
by the way he lavished his money. He thought 
nothing of paying them with a five hundred dollar 
bill, anything to get rid of two thousand dollars a 
day. But, alas! this style of living coming to a 
sudden end, he was brought to disgrace. There was 
no lack of funds, no lack of places to see, and he 
managed to live in this extravagant way for nearly 
two years, when a stern officer of the law arrested 
him for a debt, — the debt of nature. Ho bonds 
would be accepted, — he could not get bail. His 
two millions would neither purchase his release nor 
a reprieve, and he had to accept the inexorable 
fate, — death. Is it not likely that he often 
thought of the time when he drove oxen for $18 a 
month, and compared his happiness then with the 
supposed happiness of wealth, which ended in dissi¬ 
pation, disease, disgrace, for which there was no 
relief, — no cure ? 

Where are the boys who used to enter large busi¬ 
ness establishments, and, equipped only with a broom 
and a tender conscience, make their way unaided to 
a partnership in the firm and an alliance with the 
old man’s daughter? What has become of the lad 
who kissed his mother good-by as a preliminary to 
going out and conquering the world ? In what 
limbo is one to seek for that other who declined to 
learn to smoke because it was “ expensive,” and 
repudiated the theatres because they were “ not 
places in which one would care to be found in case 
the last trump were to sound ” ? 


HELP YOURSELF SOCIETY.' 


153 


u 


How is success to be attained ? How shall youth 
realize those burning dreams which set their young J\ 
hearts astir with anxiety, and move their brains with 
ceaseless action ? Yonder shine the Golden Gates 
which open into the Enchanted Land; but a dreary 
waste of cloud and shadow, concealing we know not 
what of insuperable difficulties or hostile terrors, 
intervenes between them and the young man. How 
shall he run the race ? How shall he fight the battle ? 
Whither shall he turn for aid, advice, or consolation ? 

Let the young aspirant turn to biography. Every 
great and good life is rich in necessary warning, in 
hopeful promise. Most illustrious men have owed 
the inspiration which spurred them on to excellence 
to the perusal of what other men have suffered and 
achieved. Samuel Eomilly speaks of the influence 
exercised upon him by the biography of the French 
statesman, Daguesseau. “It excited to a great 
degree,” he says, “my ardor and ambition, and 
opened to my imagination new paths of glory.” 
The life of Kobert Hall has stirred many young 
hearts like the sound of a trumpet; and how many 
a gallant soul has been warmed into heroism by 
the career of Nelson! Luther was made a reformer 
by the life of John Huss. In the weighty pages of 
biography you shall see how others have endured 
and, enduring, triumphed ; how through doubt, and 
danger, and suffering, the strong heart has worked 
its way to its goal at last; how the faltering brain 
and craven soul have gone down in life’s battle, 
unheeded and unknown. 


154 


SUCCESS. 


He who begins with crutches will generally encl 
with crutches. Help from within always strengthens, 
but help from without invariably enfeebles its recip¬ 
ient. It is not by the use of corks, bladders, and 
life-preservers that you can best learn to swim, but 
by plunging courageously into the wave and buffet¬ 
ing it, like Cassius and Caesar, “ with lusty sinews.” 
Trust yourself. 

The man who runs perpetually to others for advice 
becomes at length a moral weakling and an intellect¬ 
ual dwarf. Such a man has no self within him, be¬ 
lieves in no self within, but goes as a suppliant to 
others, and entreats of them, one after another, to 
lend him theirs. 

It is not always the hare that wins the race; 
patient industry, plodding diligence, resolute work, 
unchanging purpose, —these are the qualities which 
achieve greatness. 

Few men have ever been more profusely endowed 
by nature than Lord Brougham. He was a splendid 
example of versatility ; great as an orator, successful 
as a lawyer, eminent as a man of letters. He at¬ 
tained the highest honors of the legal profession; 
became Lord Chancellor of England and “ keeper of 
the king’s conscience.” Yet it may be doubted whether 
his elevation won for him as much general sympathy 
as was bestowed on one of his successors, Lord Camp¬ 
bell ; for it was felt that Campbell had won by sheer 
industry and perseverance what Brougham had more 
easily secured by the force of natural intellect. It 
has been said of the former, that he started from as 


“help yourself society.’’ 155 

low a level, and attained a station as high, as far as ex¬ 
ternal position is concerned ; he won his way through 
similar difficulties; but he rose by “industrious 
valor,” — Brougham by genius. And hence the world 
readily yields its respect to the unflagging applica¬ 
tion, the undaunted energy, which triumphs over 
every obstacle and especially over inferior resources 
of capacity. 

The term “genius” is subject to much misappre¬ 
hension. Sir Joshua Reynolds defined it to be 
“ nothing more than the operation of a strong 
mind accidentally determined as to object.” Sir 
Joshua said, “Nothing is denied to well-directed 
labor; nothing is obtained without it.” 

Napoleon, at school at Brienne, wrote his mother, 
“With my sword by my side and Homer in my 
pocket, I hope to carve my way through the 
world.” 

Young people who are always dreaming of some 
far-off success, who think they cannot succeed where 
they grow up, could get a striking lesson from the 
life of Grace Darling. What a monotonous place to 
be shut up in, — a lighthouse on the ocean! What 
chance for a young girl to distinguish herself living 
on those rocks alone with her aged parents? But 
while her brothers and sisters, who moved to the 
cities to win fame and wealth, are not known to 
the world, she became more famous than a princess. 

Grace did not need to go to London to see the 
nobility; they came to the lighthouse she made 
famous to see her. Right at home, this delicate 


156 


SUCCESS. 


girl won fame which royalty might envy, and a 
name which will never perish from history. She 
did not wander away into dreamy distance for 
fame and fortune, but she did her best where 
duty had placed her. 

Dr. Carey said: “Whoever gives me credit for 
anything besides being a plodder, will do too much. 
I can plod; I can persevere in any difficult pursuit, 
and to that I owe everything.” 

Often a school will graduate or a family rear two 
young men, one said to be a great genius, the other 
almost a dunce; yet you will see the bright boy sink 
and die poor, obscure, and wretched, while his dull 
brother plods his slow but sure way up the hill of 
life, to fame and honor. Whose work is this but 
their own? Men are architects of their fortunes. 
There is something for every youth within the reach 
of industry which genius alone can never win. 

It seems strange that in after years one hears so 
little of the smart boys at school, but they fall 
behind in the race of life because they do not feel 
the need of hard work in their cases; while, with no 
other hope, the dunce rises slowly but surely as a 
natural result of tireless industry. 

“Nobody thought when Grant was a boy,” said 
one of his old school-mates, “ that he would amount 
to much; he was only middling in his studies, and 
used to spend a great deal of time in reading the life 
of Napoleon, which interfered considerably with his 
school duties, until his teacher put the book into the 
stove.” 





ULYSSES S. GRANT. 


“ What a superior man seeks is in himself; what a small man seeks is in 
others.” 


“ Who waits to have his task marked out, 
Shall die and leave his errand unfulfilled.” 



































































































































































































































































































' 















































































































































“help yourself society.” 157 

A man of such ordinary appearance as Ulysses S. 
Grant never before occupied such a prominent place 
in the world’s thought. He showed not the least 
sign of genius to the casual observer. “ His genius,” 
said Senator Richard Yates of Illinois, “is neither 
ostentatious nor dramatic, but it is the genius of 
accomplishment. When his work is done, there it 
is, done; and there is the man, except for the work, 
ordinary as before.” 

As a boy at home, he was distinguished for noth¬ 
ing save fearlessness, slowness of comprehension, and 
a certain invincible pertinacity of will. At West 
Point, he occupied only a medium position in his 
class, and gave little promise of eminence. As a 
captain in the Mexican war he showed only aver¬ 
age ability. 

On his farm near St. Louis, he had hard work 
to support himself and family. As a business man, 
subsequently, he was not successful; but, when the 
Civil War broke out, every power in his nature came 
into play, and he went quietly to his work, doing that 
which first came to hand, without complaining of any 
want of appreciation on the part of the public. Yet 
he rose from one position to another, until he held 
the very destiny of the nation in his hand. He 
brought the war to a triumphant close, was chosen 
President, was re-elected, and was considered the 
best specimen of an American hero by all the 
crowned heads of the Old World. 

But General Grant with all his honors thick upon 
him was nothing more than a good man of common- 


158 


SUCCESS. 


sense, with a level head, a patient, plodding mind, a 
true heart, and a heroic, fearless, persistent purpose 
and will. lie never tried to do anything which he 
did not know how to do, and when he began a work, 
he stuck to it until he accomplished his object if it 
should take “ all summer.” 

This man, who was graduated from West Point, 
twenty-first in a class of thirty-nine, kept everlast¬ 
ingly at it, finally superseding McLellan and con¬ 
quering Lee, each of whom was second in his class. 

Mr. Wiseman, in Mrs. Barbauld’s story, on his 
return from a summer vacation received a new 
pupil with the following letter: 

Sir : — I send this by my son Samuel, whom I place under 
your care, hoping that you may be able to make something of 
him. He is now eleven, yet can do nothing but read, and that 
very poorly. We have made various attempts to teach him the 
ordinary branches, but without success. If he has any genius 
at all, it has not yet shown itself. But I trust to your experi¬ 
ence and skill to discover what he is fit for and to instruct him 
accordingly. 

Your Obedient Servant, 

Humphrey Acres. 

“A pretty subject they have sent us,” said Mr. 
Wiseman to his assistant; “ a boy with a genius for 
nothing at all. But perhaps my friend Mr. Acres 
thinks a boy ought to show a genius for a thing 
before he knows anything about it.” 

Samuel Acres stood, with downcast eyes, as if he 
expected a whipping. “ Come hither,” said Mr. Wise¬ 
man. “ Stand by me and do not be afraid. How old 


“help yourself society.” 159 

are you ? ” “ Eleven last May, sir.” “ A well-grown 
boy for your age. You love play, I daresay?” 
“ Yes, sir,” replied Samuel. 

“Are you a good hand at marbles?” “Pretty 
good, sir.” “You can spin a top and drive a hoop, 
I suppose?” “Yes, sir.” “Can you write?” “I 
learned a little, sir,” said the boy; “ but I left it off 
again.” “And why so?” “Because I could not 
make the letters.” “No? Why, how do you 
think other boys do ? Have they more fingers than 
you ? ” “ No, sir.” 

“ Are you not able to hold a pen as well as a 
marble ? ” Samuel was silent. “ Let me look at 
your hand,” said Mr. Wiseman. “I see nothing 
here to hinder you from writing as well as any 
boy in the school. You can read, I suppose?” 
“Yes, sir.” “Tell me, then, what is written over 
the school-room door.” Samuel, with some hesita¬ 
tion, read, “ Whatever man has done, man may do.” 

“ How did you learn to read, was it not by taking 
pains? ” “ Yes, sir.” “ Well, taking more pains will 
aid you to read better. Do you know anything of 
arithmetic?” “I began addition, sir, but did not 
go on with it.” “Why so?” “I could not do it, 
sir.” “How many marbles can you buy for two 
cents?” “Twelve new ones, sir.” “And how 
many for one cent?” “Six.” “And how many 
for four cents?” “Twenty four.” 

“ If you were to have two cents a day, how many 
would you have in a week?” “Fourteen cents.” 
“But if you paid out four cents how many would 


160 


SUCCESS. 


you have left?” Samuel studied for a while, and 
then said, “ ten cents.” “Eight; why, here you 
have been practicing the four great rules of arith¬ 
metic,— addition, subtraction, multiplication, and di¬ 
vision. I see what you are fit for. I shall set you 
about nothing but what you are able to do; but you 
must do it. We have no 4 1 can’t ’ here.” 

Samuel went away, glad that his examination was 
over, but with more confidence in his powers than he 
ever felt before. The next day he began to study in 
the belief that he could learn. In the school there 
was a spirit of “ I’ll try ” manifested on all sides, and 
Samuel worked so well and made such unmistakable 
progress that his teacher soon sent the following let¬ 
ter to Humphrey Acres: 

Sir : — I now think it right to give you some information 
concerning your son. You, perhaps, expected it sooner; but I 
always wish to avoid hasty judgments. You mentioned in your 
letter that you had not discovered which way his genius pointed. 
If by genius you meant such a decided bent of mind to any one 
pursuit as will lead him to excel with little or no labor or in¬ 
struction, I must say that I have not met with such a quality in 
more than three or four boys in my life, and your son is cer¬ 
tainly not among the number. Hut if you mean only the ability 
to do some of those things which the greater part of mankind 
can do when properly taught, I can affirm that I find in him no 
peculiar deficiency, and whether you choose to bring him up 
to a trade or some practical profession, I see no reason to doubt 
that he may in time become sufficiently qualified for it. 

It is my favorite maxim, sir, that everything most valuable 
in this life may generally be acquired by taking pains. Your son 
has already lost much time in the fruitless expectation of finding 
out what he would take up of his own accord. Believe me, sir, 


HELP YOURSELF SOCIETY/ 


161 


u 


few boys will take up anything of their own accord but a top 
or a marble. I will take care while he is with me that he loses 
no more time this way, but is employed about things that are 
lit for him, not doubting that we shall find him fit for them. 
1 am, sir, 

Yours respectfully, 

Solon Wiseman. 

In due time a profession was chosen for Samuel, 
which seemed to suit his temperament and talents, but 
for which he had no particular turn, having never 
thought at all about it. He made a respectable fig¬ 
ure in it, and went through the world with credit 
and usefulness, though without a genius. 

There is, perhaps, no mistake of the young more 
common than that of supposing that, in the pursuits 
of life, extraordinary talents are necessary to one 
who would achieve more than ordinary success. 
To minds that lack energy, it seems impossible to 
believe that those who have made themselves a 
place in history and whose influence has been felt 
through ages, have been men of ordinary intellect¬ 
ual caliber, and not possessed of that comprehensive 
grasp of the wholeness of things which embraces all 
their bearings and relations, and places a man in 
advance of the philosophy of his age. 

The experience of the world is not so discouraging 
to its mediocre men. The spectacle of triumphant 
mediocrity is exhibited daily. 

The wants of society raise thousands to distinction 
who are not possessed of uncommon endowments. 
Very ordinary habits will suffice to make a man 


M 


162 


SUCCESS. 


eminently useful; and surpassing talents have fre¬ 
quently been unserviceable in proportion as they 
were objects of admiration. Besides, worldly suc¬ 
cess depends less on the general superiority of one’s 
intellectual powers, than on their peculiar adaptation 
to the work in hand. A moderate talent well ap¬ 
plied will achieve more useful results, and impress 
mankind more than minds of the highest order, 
whose temper is too fine for the mechanical parts 
of a profession. The astonishing variety of talents, 
which some men display, is purchased at the dear 
price of comparative feebleness in every part. The 
highest reputation in every department of human 
exertion is reserved for minds of one faculty, where 
no rival powers divide the empire of the soul, and 
where there is no variety of pursuits to distract and 
perplex its energies. 

How foolish it is for young men not to struggle 
to make the most of themselves because they have 
not the ability to make a Lincoln, a Grant, or a Sum¬ 
ner. As well might the mustard seed, the apple seed, 
the grape seed, the kernel of wheat, or the flower 
seed, refuse to unfold its leaves and to become what 
it was intended to be because it cannot hope to 
grow into the stalwart oak or lofty pine. Every 
soul is a seed, and it does not know itself what man¬ 
ner of tree it shall become, or what manner of fruit 
it shall bear. But its great duty is to keep in the sun¬ 
light, and where the rain and the dews shall moisten 
it, and expand its budding powers into leaf, into fiber, 
into flower and fruit. It is not to blame for the kind 


“help yourself society.” 163 

of seed it may be, but it is to blame for keeping away 
the sunlight, the dew, and the rain which alone can 
unfold its possibilities. 

The violet is as grand a creation as the California 
pine which rears its head hundreds of feet above the 
modest flower. It is foolish and unkind to teach a 
youth that he can become anything he likes. As 
well tell the mustard seed that it has the possibilities 
of an oak coiled within itself. A youth can never 
exceed the limits set in the germ of his life, but he 
can prevent his life being dwarfed, one-sided, or 
half-developed. It is not his business so much to 
determine what he shall be, as to grow into what he 
was intended for. 

Hot lack of schools and teachers, nor want of 
books and friends; not the most despised rank or 
calling; not poverty nor ill health nor deafness nor 
blindness; not hunger, cold, weariness, care, nor 
sickness of heart have been able to keep determined 
men in this life from self-education. What is it that 
you want to learn and cannot? Is it writing? Re- 
member Murray, the linguist, who made a pen for 
himself out of a stem of heather, sharpening it in the 
fire, and for a copy-book used a worn-out wool card. 
Is it English grammar? Remember Cobbett, who 
learned it while he was making sixpence a day, 
often with no light but the winter fire, and often 
crowded away from this and reduced almost to star¬ 
vation, if he spent but a penny for pens or paper. 
Have you no money to buy books ? Remember More, 
who borrowed Hewton’s “Principia” and copied 


lGd 


SUCCESS. 


it for himself. Is it the multiplication table you 
wish to learn ? Remember Biddle, the poorest of 
boys, afterward known throughout the world, 
who learned it up to a million by means of peas, 
marbles, and a bag of shot. Is it music ? Remem¬ 
ber Watt, the inventor of the steam engine, who, 
with no ear for music, mastered harmonics for him¬ 
self because he had determined to build an organ. 

Self-lielp has accomplished about all the great 
things of the world. How many young men falter, 
faint, and dally with their purpose because they have 
no capital to start with, and wait for some good luck 
to give them a lift. But success is the child of drudg¬ 
ery and perseverance. It cannot be coaxed or bribed : 
pay the price and it is yours. 

We can have little faith in the youth who is al¬ 
ways crying out against his condition, and telling an 
incredulous world what great things he could do if 
his lot were different. 

If you want knowledge, you must toil for it; if 
food, you must toil for it ; and if pleasure, you must 
toil for it. Toil is the law. Pleasure comes through 
toil, and not by self-indulgence and indolence. When 
one gets to love work, his life is a happy one. 

Our greatest strength is developed, and our best 
work is done while we are struggling desperately 
for that which we do not possess. 

Books and discourses may indeed awaken and 
arouse you, and perhaps hold up the sign of a wise 
finger-post to warn you from going astray at the 
start; but they cannot move you a single step on the 


165 


“ HELP YOUKSELF SOCIETY. ,, 

road : it is your own legs only that can perform the 
journey. 

“The mind is the glory of a man,” says Daniel 
Wise. “No possession is so productive of real influ¬ 
ence as a highly cultivated intellect. Wealth, birth, 
and official station may and do secure to their pos¬ 
sessors an external, superficial courtesy; but they 
never did, and they never can, command the rever¬ 
ence of the heart. It is only to the man of large and 
noble soul, to him who blends a cultivated mind with 
an upright heart, that men yield the tribute of deep 
and genuine respect. 

“ But why do so few young men of early promise, 
whose hopes, purposes, and resolves were as radiant 
as the colors of the rainbow, fail to distinguish them¬ 
selves ? The answer is obvious: they are not willing 
to devote themselves to that toilsome culture which 
is the price of great success. Whatever aptitude for 
particular pursuits nature may donate to her favorite 
children, she conducts none but the laborious and 
the studious to distinction. 

“ As the magnificent river, rolling in the pride of 
its mighty waters, owes its greatness to the hidden 
springs of mountain nooks, so does the wide- 
sweeping influence of distinguished men date its 
origin from hours of privacy, resolutely employed 
in efforts after self-development. The invisible 
spring of self-culture is the source of every great 
achievement. 

“ Away, then, young man, with all dreams of su¬ 
periority, unless you are determined to dig after 


166 


SUCCESS. 


knowledge as men search for concealed gold ! Re¬ 
member that every man has in himself the seminal 
principle of great excellence, and he may develop it 
by cultivation if he will try. Perhaps you are what 
the world calls poor. What of that? Most of the 
men whose names are as household words were also 
the children of poverty. Captain Cook, the circum¬ 
navigator of the globe, was born in a mud hut, and 
started in life as a cabin-boy. 

“Lord Eldon, who sat on the woolsack in the 
British Parliament for nearly half a century, was the 
son of a coal merchant. Franklin, the philosopher, 
diplomatist, and statesman, was but a poor printer’s 
boy, whose highest luxury, at one time, was only a 
penny roll, eaten in the streets of Philadelphia. 
Each knew the pressure of limited circumstances, 
and demonstrated that poverty even is no insuper¬ 
able obstacle to success. 

“ Up, then, young man, and gird yourself for the 
work of self-cultivation! Set a high price on your 
leisure moments. They are sands of precious gold. 
Properly expended, they will procure for you a stock 
of great thoughts, — thoughts that will fill, stir and 
invigorate, and expand the soul.” 

Do not trust what the lazy call the spur of the 
occasion. If you wish to wear spurs in the tourna¬ 
ment of life, you must buckle them to your own 
heels before you enter the lists. 

All the world cries, “ Where is the man who will save us ? 
We want a man.” Don’t look so far for this man; you have him 
at hand. This man, — it is you, it is I, it is each one of us. . . . 


167 


“help youeself society.” 

How to constitute one’s self a man? Nothing harder, if one 
knows not how to will it; nothing easier, if one wills it. — 
Alexander Dumas. 

Persevering mediocrity is much more respectable, and unspeak¬ 
ably more useful, than talented inconstancy. — J. Hamilton. 

A craven hung along the battle’s edge, 

And thought, “ Had I a sword of keener steel, 

That blue blade that the king’s son bears, — but this 
Blunt thing! ” he snapped and flung it from his hand, 

And lowering crept away and left the field. 

Then came the King’s son, wounded, sore bestead, 

And weaponless, and saw the broken sword, 

Ililt-buried in the dry and trodden sand, 

And ran and snatched it, and with battle shout 
Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down, 

And saved a great cause that heroic day. 

— Edward Roland Sill. 


CHAPTER VII. 




“i WILL.” 

“ Impossible! ” it is not good French. — Napoleon. 

There is always room for a man of force. — Emerson. 

Nothing is impossible to the man that can will. Is that necessary? 
That shall be. This is the only law of success. — Mlrabeau. 

To think we are able is almost to be so; to determine upon attain¬ 
ment is frequently attainment itself. Thus earnest resolution has often 
seemed to have about it almost a savor of omnipotence. — Smiles. 
Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed; 

For what I will, I will, and there’s an end. — Shakespeare. 
Every man stamps his value on himself. 

The price we challenge for ourselves is given us; 

Man is made great or little by his own will. — Schiller. 

Stand firm and immovable as an anvil when it is beaten upon. — 
Saint Ignatius. 

Invincible determination with a right nature are the levers that 
move the world. — President Porter. 

Our character is our will; for what we will, we are. — Archbishop 
Manning. 

Strong in will, 

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. — W. II. D. Adams. 

To wish is of little account; to succeed you must earnestly desire; 
and this desire must shorten thy sleep. — Ovid. 

Resolve, resolve ! and to be men aspire, 

Exert that noblest privilege, alone 
Here to mankind indulged; control desire; 

Let God-like reason, from her sovereign throne, 

Speak the commanding word, “ I will,” and it is done.— Thompson. 

“ He fails not, he who stakes his all 
Upon the right and dares to fail.” 

“ The world always makes way for the man with a will in him.” 

“ Too young! ” thought Surgeon Moran, critically 
surveying Master Commandant Perry, whose eyes 
moved uneasily as lie stood talking with Commander 
Eliot of the Niagara. “What can he do against 
Captain Heriot Barclay, the one-armed veteran of 
Trafalgar? ” 


168 



169 


“i WILL.’’ 

But this sketch, adapted from Clinton Boss’ story 
of the battle, shows that the youthful commander 
would make a way when he could not find one. 

Perry glanced aloft along the taut new rigging of 
the Lawrence , and his eyes flashed at sight of an 
eagle wheeling far above; but his face grew grave 
as he saw the six white ships of the King bear¬ 
ing down under flaunting canvas, carrying sixt}^ 
three guns, and manned by five hundred and two 
men; of whom one hundred and fifty were from 
the Boyal Navy, while most of the two hundred 
and forty soldiers were regulars. 

Anxiously he scanned the nine smaller vessels built 
largely of unseasoned timber, which his genius and 
energy had collected within a few weeks from the 
neighboring forests; thought of the inadequacy of 
his fifty-four guns; and remembered that, of his four 
hundred and ninety men, one hundred and sixteen 
were unfit for service on account of sickness, only 
one hundred and twenty-five were regulars, and all 
the others were woodsmen, negroes, and Indians. 
But as he noted the sturdy attitude and confident 
look of a few who had fought on the Constitu¬ 
tion, the eagle flash blazed again from his eye, 
and, pointing to a flag, he asked cheerily, “Shall 
I hoist it?” 

“ Ay, ay, sir 1 ” burst from his men, and as the 
blue scroll unrolled from the mainroyal masthead, 
its white appeal, “ Don’t give up the ship,” was 
answered by a shout that woke the echoes of the 
lake for miles. 


170 


SUCCESS. 


The surgeon was soon summoned to the cabin, 
where Perry was tying a bundle of documents. 
“ The government’s papers, Moran,” said he. “ We’ll 
have a pretty warm time, I fancy, and you’ll be 
busy. But you are the safest man to keep this 
packet. My wife’s letters,” he continued, tearing 
them up and scattering the bits of paper; “ I don’t 
care to have them get my private correspondence. 
But should the day go against us, — I have tied 
some shot to the packet, — drop it into the lake.” 

“ I’ll have that care,” said the surgeon. “ It means 
so much,” said Perry. “ The people don’t realize 
that if we lose the day they will carry out the old 
French idea, and Canada will reach to the Gulf of 
Mexico.” 

“ And the United States will stop at Ohio,” added 
Moran. “ But they haven’t done it.” 

“ No, they haven’t,” said Perry. 

The boatswain’s whistle had piped to quarters 
some time before, and now a bugle-call came from 
the Detroit , the British flagship, then “ Rule Britan¬ 
nia,” to which our only reply was a second call of 
our boatswain’s whistle. 

The first gun boomed over the lake, quickly fol¬ 
lowed by broadside after broadside. Under the con¬ 
centrated fire of the Detroit , the Queen Charlotte 
and the Lady Prevost , the Lawrence was a pande¬ 
monium of crashing spars and tangled rigging, of 
green oak and chestnut crunching horribly under 
the iron tempest, of belching cannon dismantled 
one after another, of fast thinning ranks, of com- 


171 


“ I WILL.” 

mands and cheers, of decks slippery with blood 
above and of wounds and groans and death below. 

“ I’m short of men, doctor,” called the calm, strong 
voice of Perry ; “ send up one of your helpers.” 

Without a word the surgeon motioned to Brown, 
who went above. 

“ Brown is down,” came a second call; “send an¬ 
other”; and, five minutes later, “another,” while a 
spar crashed, the planking above sprang, and the 
blood dripped upon the dying and the dead. 

“But who is to look out for all these chaps?” 
asked the surgeon. 

“ How many are you ? ” 

“ Two, and some fifty to care for.” 

“ Can any of the wounded help you ? ” 

“They are a bad lot, sir.” 

Pohig, a wounded Harragansett Indian, suddenly 
rose to crawl up once more, when a cannon ball 
struck and he was pinned, a writhing mass, against 
the side of the ship. 

“ Come yourself.” 

“ Go, Mr. Moran,” whispered Usher, and he went. 

“ Here, — at that gun ! ” said Sailing-Master Taylor, 
slipping and limping across the deck. 

“ Here! ” commanded Perry. 

Chaplain Pierce, Purser Field, and Surgeon Moran 
were training the cannon, when that same calm, 
strong voice spoke: 

“You needn’t. It’s our last gun.” 

They rose from their knees, and the surgeon looked 
sadly aloft at the blue flag. 


172 


SUCCESS. 


“Yes,” said Perry, coolly, “the ship, but not the 
battle. Yarn ell, lower a boat.” 

“You will leave us?” asked the surgeon in sur¬ 
prise. 

“ For the Niagara ,” and he pointed at her loom¬ 
ing near through the smoke. 

“ But the Lawrence f ” brought no reply, although 
the captain’s lips quivered a moment before they 
shut more firmly together. 

“ But the colors, captain ? ” asked a faint voice. 

“ We’ll take that flag to the other ship,” replied 
Perry, and a sob burst from the wounded lieutenant. 

“We must have the day, Yarnell,” said Perry, 
laying his hand impressively upon the lieutenant’s 
shoulder. “ What is the Lawrence to that ? ” 

“ I’ll stand by the Lawrence, captain,” said Yar¬ 
nell, straightening up, and smiling through his tears 
and blood. 

“Shall I sink the papers?” asked Moran. 

“Yes, if it comes to that,” the shout came back; 
but soon the little boat, with Perry holding the blue 
pennant at the stern, with his brother at his side, 
and with four strong men at the oars, was swallowed 
by the sulphurous mist. 

Soon afterwards the stars and stripes fell from the 
Lawrence , and a ringing cheer rose from the Detroit; 
but it was drowned quickly by the redoubled roar of 
battle. The Queen Charlotte fouled the Detroit in 
trying to give a broadside to the Niagara , and 
Perry backed the maintopsails of the latter and 
raked the two fouled ships fore and aft. Pressing 


173 


“ I WILL.” 

on under the freshening breeze, he riddled the Lady 
Prevost and engaged the Hunter , from whose taffrail 
an officer soon waved a white flag. Encouraged 
by the Niagara's lead, the American Caledonia , 
Ariel , Somers , Scorpion , Tigress , and Porcupine 
had followed, carrying away the Detroit's masts 
and the Queen Charlotte's mizzenmast. Cheer after 
cheer mingled with the roar of the American guns. 
YarnelPs face was radiant as he noted the turn of 
the battle’s tide, and he hoisted the stars and stripes 
again on the Lawrence. Even “ Commodore ” Peck- 
ham, as the men called him in joke, came up from 
below, where he had been plugging a leak, and Tom 
Brownell’s ordinarily ruddy face seemed aflame with 
enthusiasm. 

“ The captain is back, the captain is back! ” shouted 
a wounded sailor, and in silence the remnant on the 
flagship greeted him, as he climbed aboard and 
looked sadly over the human fragments, cannon 
dismounted, carriages broken, reeking decks, and 
shattered timbers. 

“ Put up our old blue flag on the Lawrence again, 
boys,” commanded Perry; “ for she was given up 
but to win the fight.” 

“ I forgot to sink that packet when we struck our 
colors,” cried the surgeon, suddenly remembering 
his promise. 

a You did, eh?” asked Perry,gravely. “But the 
colors are up, so Pll pardon you.” 

With what amazement the surviving officers of the 
King’s fleet gazed upon the havoc they had made, 


174 


SUCCESS. 


when they came to the Lawrence to deliver their 
swords to Perry, who returned them with great 
civility. And, as they looked up at the starry flag 
and the blue, both waving proudly over the hulk, 
they stared in greater astonishment at the youthful 
figure of their conqueror. 

And only to think that the decisive part of the 
three hours’ battle lasted but eight minutes! What 
a whirlwind rush of events! Well might Perry send 
that brief but exultant message to Harrison : 

“We have met the enemy and they are ours: two 
ships, two brigs, one schooner, and one sloop.” 

Too young ? 

“ So nigh is grandeur to our dust, 

So near is God to man, 

When Duty whispers low, ‘ Thou must* 

The youth replies, ‘ I can .’ ” 

“ Re was a man ! ” said George Lippard of Andrew 
Jackson; “ well I remember the day 1 called upon 
him. He sat there in his arm-chair, — I can see that 
old warrior face, with its snow-white hair, even now. 

“We told him of the public distress, — the manu¬ 
facturers ruined, the eagles shrouded in crape, which 
were borne at the head of twenty thousand men into 
Independence Square. He heard us all. 

“We begged him to leave the deposits where they 
were; to uphold the Great Bank in Philadelphia. 
Still he did not say a word. At length one of our 
members, more fiery than the rest, intimated that if 
the bank were crushed, a rebellion might follow. 



OLIVER HAZARD FERRY. 

“ So nigh is grandeur to our dust, 

So near is God to man, 

When Duty whispers low, ‘ Thou must,’ 
The youth replies, ‘ I can. ’ ” 

“We have met the enemy and they are ours.” 
































































































































































































































175 


“i WILL.’’ 

“Then the old man rose, —I can see him yet. 
‘Come!’ he shouted in a voice of thunder, as his 
clutched right hand was raised above his white 
hairs. ‘ Come with bayonets in your hands instead 
of petitions, — surround the White House with your 
legions, — I am ready for you all! With the people 
at my back whom your -gold can neither buy nor 
awe, I will swing you up around the Capitol, each 
rebel of you, — on a gibbet, — high as Hainan’s.’ 

“When I think of that one man standing there at 
Washington, battling with all the powers of Bank 
and Panic combined, betrayed by those in whom he 
trusted, assailed by all that the snake of malice could 
hiss or the fiend of falsehood howl, — when I think of 
that one man placing his back against the rock and 
folding his arms for the blow, while he uttered his 
awful vow : ‘ By the Eternal! I will not swerve one 
inch from the course I have chosen! ’ I must con¬ 
fess that the records of Greece and Home, — nay, the 
proudest days of Cromwell and Hapoleon, — cannot 
furnish an instance of will like that of Andrew Jack- 
son, when he placed life and soul and fame at the 
hazard of a die for the People's welfare .” 

“We go forth,” said Emerson, “austere, dedicated, 
believing in the iron links of Destiny, and will not 
turn on our heels to save our lives; but a book, or a 
bust, or only the sound of a name shoots a spark 
through the nerves, and we suddenly believe in will. 
I cannot even hear of personal vigor of any kind, 
great power of performance, without fresh resolu¬ 
tion.” 


176 


SUCCESS. 


Napoleon, while undergoing his examination at 
the military school in Paris, replied with such ac¬ 
curacy to all the questions proposed to him, that 
the professors and students were amazed. To ter¬ 
minate the examination, the following question was 
asked: “What would you do, if you were besieged 
in a place entirely destitute of provisions?” “As 
long as there was anything to eat in the enemy’s 
camp,” answered Napoleon, “ I should not be at all 
concerned.” A will finds a way. 

His power of self-mastery was remarkable. Of 
one of his generals who lost his temper he said, 
“No man can be great who allows himself to get 
angry.” 

Nothing ever seemed to daunt Napoleon. All 
through the Russian expedition, one of the most 
frightful experiences in history, he was calm, self- 
possessed, self-controlled, self-centered, ever believing 
in his destiny, and with no diminution of courage. 
Misfortune, disaster, obstacles, and sorrows which 
would crush and unbalance ordinary minds, never 
disturbed the depths of his serenity. When soldiers 
of all ranks by the score were blowing their brains 
out to escape misery, when the men were staining 
the snow with their blood, he never faltered, but 
cheered them and inspired them with hope and 
confidence in himself. And even in this extremity, 
when men were driven to desperation and reduced 
almost to starvation, they would have died for the 
Emperor if it had been necessary. 

“ Nature seems to have calculated,” said he, “ that 


I WILL. 


177 


u 


V 


I should endure great reverses. She has given me a 
mind of marble; thunder cannot ruffle it; the shafts 
merely glide along.” Few men have ever had such 
remarkable self-control, such complete self-mastery 
as he, although in some directions he was weak. 

The plague was decimating Napoleon’s ranks at 
the siege of St. Jean d’Acre, and he, to inspire his 
men, wont about among the plague-stricken soldiers, 
touching their wounds with his bare hands. He 
said that the man who had no fear would never be 
stricken with the plague. He believed that the mind 
is master of the body. If there was ever a believer 
in the almost omnipotent power of the mind and of 
the will, it was Napoleon. 

Energy of will,—self-originating force, — is the 
soul of every great character. Where it is, there 
is life; where it is not, there is faintness, helpless¬ 
ness, and despondency. 

Governor Brooks, an officer in the Revolution, 
when he was lying helpless from rheumatism, re¬ 
ceived an order from General Washington to go 
somewhere. He replied that he was unable to go. 
Washington sent back the order, “ Sir, you must 
go.” Colonel Brooks mounted his horse, went, and 
did the required work. 

Whatever Washington commanded had to be done. 

No one is defeated until he gives up. The point 
is, then, not to give up. 

He who allows his application to falter, or shirks 
his work on frivolous pretexts, is on the sure road to 
ultimate failure. Let any task be undertaken as a 


N 


178 


SUCCESS. 


thing not possible to be evaded, and it will soon 
come to be performed with alacrity and cheerful¬ 
ness. Charles IX. of Sweden was a firm believer in 
the power of will, even in a youth. Laying his hand 
on the head of his youngest son when engaged upon 
a difficult task, he exclaimed, “He shall do it! he 
shall do it! ” 

In the world of action, will is power . Persistent 
will, with circumstances not altogether unfavorable, 
is victory ; nay, in spite of circumstances altogether 
unfavorable, persistency will often carve out a way to 
unexpected success. Head the “Life of Frederick 
the Great of Prussia,” and you will understand 
what this means. Fortune never will favor a man 
who flings away the dice-box because the first throw 
brings a low number. There is only one thing that 
can give significance and dignity to human life, — 
virtuous energy. 

“ It would be impossible to find in the parliamen¬ 
tary annals of the world,” says one whose own learn¬ 
ing and large experience in public life give great 
weight to his opinion, “a parallel to Mr. Clay in 
1841, when, at sixty-four years of age, he took the 
control of the Whig party from the President who 
had received their suffrages, against the power of 
Webster in the Cabinet, against the eloquence of 
Choate in the Senate, against the herculean efforts 
of Caleb Cushing and Henry A. Wise in the House. 
In unshared leadership, in the pride and plenitude of 
power, he hurled against John Tyler, with deepest 
scorn, the mass of that conquering column which 


179 


“i WILL.” 

had swept over the land in 1840, and drove his 
administration to seek shelter behind the lines of 
his political foes.” 

“ What you will, that you are.” An energetic 
will, which determines upon a course of action and 
feels confident of success, rarely fails. 

“ I will thrash the Mexicans to-day, or die a-try- 
ing! ” was what Sam. Houston said to an aide the 
morning of the battle of San Jacinto: and he won. 

Ulysses S. Grant, a young man unknown to fame, 
with neither money nor influence, with no patrons 
or friends, in six years fought more battles, gained 
more victories, captured more prisoners, took more 
spoils, commanded more men, than Napoleon did in 
twenty years. 

He called but one council of war and rejected the 
advice it gave. 

Like Napoleon, Wellington, and Nelson, Grant be¬ 
came disgusted with his treatment, and proposed to 
leave the service. But for the advice and influence 
of Sherman he would have done so. Six months 
after his letter qf resignation was written Halleck 
was removed, and Grant became lieutenant-general 
of the United States Army, where his will of iron 
bore everything before it. 

“I remember Dent telling me,” said Paige, “about 
the return of Grant to old Mr. Dent’s homestead near 
St. Louis. Mr. Dent had given each of his children 
some money, and they had all been married and had 
gone to different parts of the United States to estab¬ 
lish themselves. After a certain number of years 


180 


SUCCESS. 


they all came back to the homestead with their wives 
and children, and among the last to come was Grant, 
with his good big family. There did not seem to be 
any opening for Grant, and Mr. Dent said to him, 
‘ Ulysses, I will give you forty acres of ground out 
yonder on the slope, if you will cut the wood off of 
it.’ Grant was a tremendously steady worker, and 
he took his axe and erected himself a cabin on that 
piece of ground, in which his wife and family lived, 
while he undertook to cut the whole timber off. 
Judge Dent told me that he used to sit on the fence 
and see Grant notching the big trees and bringing 
them down one after the other. He said to Grant 
one day, as the latter was stopping to chatter with 
his children, ‘ Grant, what are you going to do with 
these children?’ — 4 Well,’ said Grant, with perfect 
soberness, ‘ Ulysses I am going to send to Harvard ; 
Fred. I’ll put in the army; and I don’t know yet 
what I shall do with Jesse.’ Dent repressed a smile. 
There was the poor man out of military life and out 
of money, clearing a piece of ground to be able to 
own it, and dictating professions for his children. 

“ How,” remarked Mr. Paige, “ each of those chil¬ 
dren has taken the position Grant indicated for him.” 

In the lexicon of all true workers, as Richelieu 
and Napoleon said, there is no such word as “ fail.” 
Mirabeau called “impossible” a blockhead’s word. 
Lord Chatham, when told by a colleague that a cer¬ 
tain thing could not be done, calmly replied, but with 
all the weight of his giant will, “I trample upon 
impossibilities.” And so he did. He moved forward 


181 


“ I WILL.” 

with the confidence of one beneath whose iron tread 
mountain barriers turn to dust. 

The business affairs of a gentleman named Rouss 
were once in a complicated condition, owing to his 
conflicting interests in various states, and he was 
thrown into prison. While confined he wrote on the 
walls of his cell: 

“ I am forty years of age this day. When I am 
fifty, 1 shall be worth half a million ; and by the time 
I am sixty, I shall be worth a million dollars.” 

He is now worth more than three million dollars. 

Cornelius Vanderbilt, when but a youth, had 
gained such a reputation for overcoming obstacles, 
that his friends regarded anything which he under¬ 
took as virtually performed. 

“ Shall I go to the feast ? ” soliloquized an engineer 
in Holland one stormy day, “or shall I go and help 
my workmen take care of the dykes ? ” 

He was soon to be married, and that evening a 
great feast was to be given in his honor. The ocean 
was beating furiously against the dykes, and the ter¬ 
ror of the people was rising with the tide, for thou¬ 
sands of lives were protected by those massive stone 
walls. 

“ Take care of the dykes,” he muttered to himself; 
“ the feast can get along without me or can be post¬ 
poned, but take care of the dykes I must and will.” 

“ Here comes the engineer! Thank God ! Thank 
God ! ” shouted the men, as they saw him coming, for 
the wall was giving way, stone by stone, and they 
were nearly exhausted and discouraged. 


182 


SUCCESS. 


The engineer had a rope fastened around his body, 
and other ropes around the bodies of several of his 
men, and they were lowered amid the beating 
surf. 

“ More stones! ” cried the men, “ more mortar! 
everything is giving way.” 

“ There are no more stones,” was the answering 
shout. 

“ Take off your clothes,” cried the engineer, “ and 
with them stop the holes in the wall.” 

In the darkness and cold, amid the turbulent rush 
and roar of the waters, they crowded their clothes 
into the holes, praying as they worked. It seemed 
as if all their work would be in vain, however, 
when suddenly the wind changed and the sea 
subsided. What shouts went up when they knew 
that their villages were saved, and how they cheered 
their engineer, whose self-denial and stern determi¬ 
nation had saved the dykes after all others had 
given up. 

How many engineers are needed, as Talmage 
shows, to aid in walling back oceans of poverty, 
drunkenness, impurity, and sin! How the waves 
beat, and how the tide pours in ! To the dykes! To 
the dykes! The feasts can wait. Men with strong 
wills to the dykes! 

When Columbus mounted his mule and rode out 
of the Alhambra for the last time, as he evidently 
thought, he rode off to offer his enterprise to 
Charles VII., but the Queen at the last moment said, 
“For my own crown of Castile I adopt the enter- 


183 


“ I WILL.” 

prise, and if funds are wanted my own jewels shall 
be pledged to raise them.” She had the will and 
was determined to find the way. 

He can, who thinks he can. 

“Well, I am a little late this morning; I guess I 
shall miss the train,” says one man as he looks at his 
watch, and then mopes along as if he has decided to 
miss it. He hears the whistle and moves a little 
quicker. As the train nears the station he runs with 
all his might and arrives just in time to see the cars 
roll out. “ Just my luck ! ” he exclaims, “ I expected 
I would miss it when I started.” 

“ Only three minutes to train time! ” exclaims 
his neighbor as he looks at his watch; “I’ll make 
it, though; good-by,” he says to his wife, and tears 
down the street in a way to scare all the small boys. 
For fear of knocking some one down, or being hin¬ 
dered, he runs down the street, leaving the sidewalk, 
and enters the depot just as the train comes in. 
“ That’s a little the quickest time I ever made,” he 
remarks to a friend; “ but I told my wife I’d take 
this train, and here I am.” 

The second man had a determination to win, the 
first to miss. Each had the same time and distance. 
It was at the start that the race was really decided. 

How mighty is resolution, when supported by an 
unconquerable will to carry it out; how feeble, when 
there is no real heart behind it! 

Young people who waste their time and opportu¬ 
nities for self-improvement will find rebuke as well 
as inspiration and encouragement in the story of 


184 


SUCCESS. 


William and Caroline Herschel, children of Isaac 
Herschel, a member of the band of the Hanoverian 
Guards. The father’s health had been seriously im¬ 
paired by exposure in the army; but, although he 
was afflicted with asthma and rheumatism, he would 
often explain to William and Caroline what little he 
knew of the starry systems. 

When Caroline was ten years old she could name the 
different constellations. She also learned to play the 
violin, while her brother was placed in the band, but 
was soon obliged to abandon it on account of ill 
health. He resolved to go to England, thinking it 
would afford him better opportunities for a start in 
life. He went to Leeds, where he secured a position 
as organist, being a fair musician, but subsequently 
removed to Bath. After his departure, the father 
died, and Caroline, who took a deep interest in her 
brother’s welfare, was heart-broken. To her de¬ 
light, however, she received an invitation from 
him to join him at Bath as a singer for his winter 
concerts. 

She traveled six days and nights in a coach to a 
port in Holland, and sailed in a packet to Yarmouth. 
The vessel was wrecked, but Caroline with others 
was saved after a severe drenching in the sea. She 
hired a teamster to take herself and her trunk in a 
cart to meet the London stage-coach, but the horse 
ran away, throwing her and her trunk into a ditch. 
She finally reached her brother, and helped him 
greatly with his music, besides keeping house for him. 

Her attachment for her brother was very strong. 


185 


“i WILL.” 

Both seemed to have the same thoughts and ambi¬ 
tions. Caroline took the deepest interest in his ad¬ 
vancement, and cheerfully did everything possible 
for him. 

Although William had attained a good position as 
a music-teacher in Bath, his mind was haunted by 
the lessons in astronomy which he had received from 
his father, and he bought all the books he could find 
on the subject, which only increased his determina¬ 
tion to examine the heavens for himself. lie was too 
poor to buy a telescope, so with indomitable will 
the two young astronomers decided to make one, 
although the work required an accurate knowledge 
of mathematics and optics. 

With his sister’s assistance, William succeeded in 
making a Newtonian telescope of five-foot focal 
length, the success of which so encouraged him that 
he began the construction of a twenty-foot reflector. 
They turned their little home into a telescope factory. 

A foundry was established in the back garden, 
there were turning lathes in the bedrooms, the sound 
of hammers came from the garret, and the rasping 
of files could be heard all over the house. 

William was so enthusiastic that he hardly stopped 
work for his meals, while Caroline worked all the 
time when she was not singing at concerts, some¬ 
times working all night. Of course everybody 
laughed at the amateurs, and wondered why they 
preferred to waste their time in such a visionary way 
instead of joining in youthful sports. 

The twenty-foot t'elescope worked successfully. 


186 


SUCCESS. 


Imagine the delight of the young people when they 
first turned this great instrument to the sky and dis¬ 
covered Uranus. The news of the great discovery 
spread like wildfire, the Royal Society elected Wil¬ 
liam to a fellowship, and his name became great in 
scientific circles. 

Caroline was so elated over her brother’s success 
that she refused to sing in the oratorios at Bristol or 
elsewhere, and could not be induced to leave him. 
The King appointed him Astronomer Royal, on a 
salary of £400 a year, also allowing Caroline £50 a 
year as his assistant; and with this fortune the brother 
and sister dedicated themselves anew to the study 
of astronomy. 

Caroline would sweep the heavens every clear 
night with a small telescope, hunting intently for 
hours for comets or anything new and before un¬ 
known ; while her brother, with the large one, pene¬ 
trated deeper into space, resolving the nebulae into 
their component stars. Caroline discovered eight 
comets, six of which had not been known before. 

They had orders for telescopes from crowned heads 
and princes. These William manufactured by day, 
prosecuting his studies by night. The government 
granted him £4,000 with which to manufacture a 
forty-foot telescope, which he succeeded in making 
after three years of almost incredible trials. When 
this instrument was first turned skyward there was 
great rejoicing, and the first night after it was 
completed William discovered the sixth satellite of 
Saturn. 


“i WILL.” 187 

Caroline bad to undergo a great trial in her 
brother’s marriage, but she gracefully yielded her 
post at the head of his household, and continued 
to assist him in every way. 

She became so familiar with celestial phenomena 
that she felt quite at home among the stars, and could 
find her way among the planets and detect a comet 
rushing through space almost as easily as a stranger 
could walk in the streets of her native village. 

Both were entertained by royalty; William was 
made Doctor of Laws, and he received the royal 
Hanoverian order of Knighthood. Caroline corre¬ 
sponded with the most learned men in Europe. 

On the 22d of August, 1822, came a great shock 
to Caroline in William’s death. The object of her 
life, for whom she had lived, hoped, and toiled, 
had departed. She returned to her home in Hano¬ 
ver, where she spent the remainder of her life, keep¬ 
ing up her correspondence with the learned men, 
never relinquishing her interest in science until, in 
1848, at the age of ninety-eight, she died. 

The strong determination of the brother and sister 
gave them a high rank among the greatest astrono¬ 
mers of all time. The Eoyal Society admitted Caro¬ 
line to membership, and conferred upon her a gold 
medal. 

“ While yet a youth,” said a successful man, “ I 
entered a store and asked if a clerk were wanted. 
‘Ho,’ was the gruff reply. Next day I donned a 
rough garb, went to the same store, and asked if 
they wanted a porter. ‘ Ho, sir,’ was the response; 


188 


SUCCESS. 


when almost in despair I exclaimed, i A laborer? sir, 
I will work at any wages: I must have employment, 
and I want to be useful in business.’ These last re¬ 
marks attracted his attention, and I was hired as a 
laborer, in the basement and sub-cellar, at very low 
pay. Here I saved enough for my employers, in 
little things usually wasted, to pay my wages ten 
times over. I did not let anybody about commit 
petty larcenies without remonstrance and threats of 
exposure, and real exposure if threats and remon¬ 
strances would not do. I did not ask for any two 
hours’ leave. If I was wanted at three in the morning, 
I never growled, but told everybody to ‘ go home, 
and I will see to everything all right.’ I loaded off at 
daybreak packages for the morning boats or carried 
them myself. In short, I soon became, as I meant 
to be, indispensable to my employers; and I rose, and 
rose, until I became head of the house.” 

As will, considered without regard to direction, is 
simply constancy, firmness, perseverance, it will be 
obvious that everything depends upon right direc¬ 
tion and motives. Directed towards the enjoyment 
of the senses, the strong will may be a demon, and 
the intellect merely its debased slave; but directed 
towards good, the strong will is a king, and the 
intellect is then the minister of man’s highest well¬ 
being. 

Many physicians insist that very few consumptives 
are killed by the disease alone; usually they are par¬ 
tially frightened to death. Two notable and historic 
cases, that formed exceptions to the rule, were Presi- 


189 


“ I WILL.’’ 

dent Andrew Jackson and the Duke of Wellington, 
each of whom was a consumptive youth, yet after¬ 
ward became a great soldier, the most prominent 
statesman of his time and country, and lived to a 
ripe old age. A still more wonderful case is that of 
a New York lawyer, millionaire, and man of affairs, 
who sixty years ago was given up to die of consump¬ 
tion, but who, as we write, is ninety-six years of age 
and apparently recovering from a combined attack 
of pneumonia and heart failure. From the character 
of the men alluded to, the prolonging of life may be 
attributed to “mind cure” of the kind that has no 
nonsense in it; on the other hand, resistance, as a 
faculty, is but another name for obstinacy, of which 
any human being can find plenty in himself if he 
chooses to look for it. 

If the mind has power enough to extinguish life 
under a false belief or conviction, as it has done in 
numberless cases, is it unreasonable to hold that we 
can at least retain health when we have it, and pre¬ 
vent disease from entering or developing in the sys¬ 
tem to a far greater extent than we do at present? 

A thoughtful physician once assured a friend that 
if an express agent were to visit New Orleans in the 
yellow-fever season, having $40,000 in his care, he 
would be in little danger of the fever so long as 
he kept possession of the money. Let him once de¬ 
liver that into other hands, and the sooner he left 
the city the better. 

The London Lancet , the greatest medical author¬ 
ity in the world, is a great believer and advocate of 


190 


SUCCESS. 


the triumph of mind over body. It gives instances 
of great men who have triumphed by sheer force of 
brain and will over physical infirmities and terrible 
diseases which would have completely conquered 
weak men. It cites the case of Coleridge, who was 
condemned for his lack of power of concentration, 
and for his vacillation and indecision. It says that 
a post-mortem examination of Coleridge’s body 
showed his heart enormously enlarged and the walls 
so thin that it could not bear its own weight, and 
gives many other physical conditions which make 
us marvel that he could maintain his cheerfulness 
and accomplish what he did. 

It is said that the celebrated physiognomist Cam- 
panella could so abstract his attention from any suf¬ 
ferings of his body, that he was even able to endure 
the rack without much pain; and whoever has the 
power of concentrating his attention and controlling 
his will can emancipate himself from most of the 
minor miseries of life. 

John Bunyan has even shown us a man forcing 
his way to heaven. “ Set down my name,” saith the 
valiant man; and although angels barred the door, 
yet he laid about him with his good sword, and 
entered in, and the same angels sang hosannas over 
him. 

“ Though our character is formed by circum¬ 
stances,” says John Stuart Mill, “our own desires 
can do much to shape those circumstances; and 
what is really inspiriting and ennobling in the doc¬ 
trine of free will, is the conviction that we have real 


I WILL. 


191 


« 




power over the formation of our own character; our 
will, by influencing some of our circumstances, be¬ 
ing able to modify our future habits or capacities of 
willing.” 

The timid and hesitating find everything impossi¬ 
ble, chiefly because it seems so. 

A man who can resolve vigorously upon a course 
of action, and turns neither to the right nor to the 
left, though a paradise tempt him, who keeps his 
eyes upon the goal, whatever distracts him, is almost 
sure of success. We could almost classify successful 
and unsuccessful men by their various degrees of 
will-power. Men like Sir James Mackintosh, Cole¬ 
ridge, Le Harpe, and many others who have dazzled 
the world with their brilliancy, but who never ac¬ 
complished a tithe of what they promised, who were 
always raising our expectations that they would do 
wonderful deeds, but who accomplished nothing 
worthy of their great abilities, have been deficient in 
will-power. One talent with a will behind it will 
accomplish more than ten without it, as a thimble¬ 
ful of powder in a rifle, the bore of whose barrel 
will give it direction, will do greater execution than 
a carload burned in the open air. 

I wish it were possible to show the youth of 
America the great part that the will might play in 
their success, and in their enjoyment of life. The 
achievements of will-power are almost beyond com¬ 
putation. Scarcely anything seems impossible to the 
man who can will strongly enough and long enough. 

“ The man who succeeds must always in mind or 


192 


SUCCESS. 


imagination live, move, think, and act as if he had 
gained that success, or he never will gain it,” wrote 
Prentice Mulford. It is the silent force of the mind, 
the quiet mood of resolve firmly held to, that makes 
people gravitate to whatever place they seek. 

But the opportunity is as necessary as the man or 
woman with the will. Had Napoleon been born in 
America since the Civil War, or Grant at the same 
time in England, Lincoln in Canada, Garfield in 
South America, they might never have had more 
than a local reputation. The prominent author of a 
very clever English book says that an English boy, 
however poor, with a good head and good health, 
who starts out with the determination to become 
Prime Minister of England, is almost sure to attain 
his object. This seems very dangerous philosophy to 
teach youth. Suppose a hundred or a thousand Eng¬ 
lish boys should start out with the same determina¬ 
tion ; it would not be certain that any one of the 
thousand would gain the position, to say nothing of 
the chances of all attaining their common ambition. 
How many Prime Ministers has England had dur¬ 
ing the last half century? Writers on the secret 
of success often make statements that the poorest 
boy in America can become President if he tries 
hard and persistently. But quite a large number of 
the Presidents of the United States were nominated 
as compromise candidates; they were “ dark horses,” 
and their nomination was as much of a surprise to 
themselves as to the nation. Boys can be inspired 
to do their utmost, to make the most out of the stuff, 


193 


“i WILL.” 

without setting up impossible standards or teaching 
them false philosophy. 

“ It is a law of nature,” said Herodotus, “ that 
faint-hearted men should be the fruit of luxurious 
countries; for we never find that the same soil pro- 
duces delicacies and heroes.” 

Oftentimes, after doing our level best to succeed, 
after taking every possible advantage of our situa¬ 
tion, and improving to the utmost every condition 
of success, we find ourselves suddenly foiled by what 
seems to be ironical fate, which seems to mock all 
our plans, to frustrate our greatest efforts, to baffle 
our progress, and to blight our prospects. 

Columbus was carried back to Spain in chains, and a 
pickle dealer of Seville, who never rose above the 
position of mate of a schooner, gave his name to the 
world Columbus had discovered. 

The greatest thing a man can possibly do in this 
world is to make the most possible out of the stuff 
that has been given him. This is success, and there 
is no other. It is not a question of what some one 
else can do or become, which every youth should 
ask himself, but what can I do? How can I develop 
myself into the grandest possible manhood? How 
can I best improve my chance? 

Michael Angelo refused positively to paint the 
walls of the Sistine Chapel, because he did not un¬ 
derstand painting in fresco. The Pope insisted, and 
Angelo then went to work, made his own colors, 
mixed them, tried them, learned how to paint; and, 
having thus taught himself the art, he proceeded to 


194 


SUCCESS. 


excel all that had ever been done in it before, and 
also all that has ever been done since. 

In Honduras, and in some other tropical countries, 
nature is so prolific that, with a fortnight’s toil, one 
can get a food supply for a year. But thus, through 
a lack of stimulus to labor, the natives have become 
most degraded beings, some of them, — both men and 
women, — according to the statement of the late 
Bishop Simpson, who witnessed the scene, having be¬ 
come so lazy that they lie on their backs under the 
banana-trees, eating the fruit from the branches, too 
indolent to stand and pluck it. Ten thousand such 
creatures would not be worth one stirring Yankee. 
But the Yankee might become such if you took 
away from him the necessity of toil. 

It is no chance system that returns to the Hindoo 
citizen a penny, and to the American laborer a dollar 
for his daily toil; that makes Mexico, with its min¬ 
eral wealth, poor, and Hew England, with its granite 
and ice, rich. 

Were I called upon to express in a word the secret 
of so many failures among those who started out with 
high hopes, I should say they lacked will-power. 
They could not half will, and what is a man with¬ 
out a will ? He is like an engine without steam, — a 
mere sport of chance to be tossed about hither and 
thither, always at the mercy of those who do have 
wills. I should call his strength of will the test of a 
young man’s possibilities. Can he will strongly enough 
and hold whatever he undertakes with an iron grip, 
for it is the iron grip that takes the strong hold on life? 


I WILL. 


195 


u 

What chance is there in this crowding, pushing, 
greedy, selfish world, for a young man with no will, 
no persistence? 

An iron will without principle would produce a 
Napoleon; with character, a Wellington or a Grant, 
untarnished by ambition or avarice. 

An iron will, with a strong religious sentiment, will 
produce a Luther; with selfishness and cruelty, a 
Nero. Power without character must ever prove fatal 
to its possessor. There is not an exception in history. 

Our habits or our temptations are not our masters, 
but we are theirs. Even in yielding conscience tells 
us we might resist; and that were we determined to 
master them, there would not be required for that 
purpose a stronger resolution than we know our¬ 
selves to be capable of exercising. 

The Youth's Companion tells of a woman who 
died in one of the plainest houses in London. She 
had no influence in her community, but was a de¬ 
voted mother, whose love was centered in one son 
to whom she taught two phrases. These, she de¬ 
clared, would carry men through any difficulty if 
they were allowed to govern their lives. The phrases 
were : “ I will! ” and “ God help me! ” 

When grown to manhood, the son of the unknown 
woman, whose wisdom had impressed upon his mind 
motives that had vitalized his life, met a thief grovel¬ 
ing in the depths of wickedness, and in almost hope¬ 
less endeavor sought his reformation. Nothing that 
he did seemed to have any perceptible influence on 
the perverse, unresponsive nature. 


196 


SUCCESS. 


Finally, after patient, apparently fruitless, effort, 
lie was led to speak one day of the two phrases 
that had helped to make his own life what it was. 
It seemed almost a desecration to waste his mother’s 
watchwords on such a villain. 

To his great surprise, the faint spark of man¬ 
hood in the lost man responded to the idea of his 
being able to save himself by the help of some one 
else. 

“ If you win in this great fight,” said his helper, 
“ I will give you a championship belt with the two 
mottoes embroidered upon it in gold.” 

From that hour, perhaps in part because of the 
“ sport ” in his blood, — to use the parlance of the 
street, — the poor fellow’s whole nature was strained 
to win the belt. lie literally went into moral training 
as if for a prize-fight. For him honest labor was al¬ 
most an impossibility to obtain, and when at length it 
was obtained, it was almost impossible for him to 
perform it. Those who were “straight” in conduct 
had no sympathy for the “ crooked ” in life who were 
trying to enter their exclusive ranks. 

When the ex-criminal worked hard, they threw it 
in his face that it was for show. When he worked 
at the ordinary pace, he was told that he was lazy. 
When he began in a decent way to show a disinter¬ 
ested friendship, he was accused of currying favor. 
When he was pleasant and cheerful, he was reminded 
that, after all, he was nothing better than a hum- 
bug. 

In short, the ordinary standards of life never 


197 


“i WILL.” 

seemed to apply to the one who needed them most. 
Dogged by suspicion, misinterpreted in word and 
action, what wonder the struggling, wretched man 
had many breakdowns? Still he contended against 
discouragements. Who can say that, needed as it was, 
more than mortal strength was not given him by which 
he overcame? To fight one’s self, as well as the world 
arrayed against you, is to fight against desperate odds, 
and then to win is to score a victory prouder than any 
achievement that brings honor to men. 

But the desire to be a “champion Christian” 
seemed to be constant in this man’s heart. The 
vital mottoes, “ I will! ” “ God help me! ” were 

enduring stimulants. It took four years for him to 
win the belt, so ingeniously held before his undevel¬ 
oped aspiration as a prize in this spiritual race. 

During that time lie renounced every variety of 
crime. He had abandoned his old associates, had 
given up liquor entirely, and had emancipated him¬ 
self from the terrible taints of heredity, which are 
the subtlest and most powerful causes of a vicious 
life. He had won the respect of those whose opin¬ 
ion is worth having, and his position in respectable 
society was secured. 

One quiet evening, before a few chosen people, 
the championship belt, signifying Christian self-con¬ 
trol, was awarded to him; but the woman who had 
inspired the motto was not there. She was dead, but 
those five words of hers had given vitality to a di¬ 
vine principle, and by the unseen spiritual forces 
that transmit good from one life to another the 


198 


SUCCESS. 


reformed thief had become a child of God, — the 
inheritor of her spiritual strength. 

A thoughtful writer says that the course of things 
below is not a relentless fate. Man’s will is uncon¬ 
querable, and by it he is largely the maker and lord 
of bis destiny; by it, relying on Eternal Power and 
his own energies, he can build a monument of great¬ 
ness reaching to the heavens; by it, allowing those 
faculties with which he is so richly endowed to lie 
dormant in him, and following the low instincts of his 
nature, he may plunge to perdition. 

There is always within him the upspringing of 
lofty sentiment which contributes to his elevation ; 
and, though there are obstacles to be surmounted 
and difficulties to be vanquished, yet with truth for 
his watchword, and relying upon his own noble 
purposes and indefatigable exertions, he may crown 
his brow with imperishable honors. He may never 
wear the warrior’s crimson wreath, the poet’s chaplet 
of bays, or the statesman’s laurels; no grand universal 
truth may at his bidding stand confessed to the world; 
it may never be his to bring to a successful issue a 
great political revolution, or to be the founder of a 
republic, whose name shall be a distinguished star in 
the constellation of national heroes and statesmen ; 
his name may never be heard beyond the narrow lim¬ 
its of his own neighborhood; yet is his mission none 
the less high and holy. 

Then trust thyself, and Providence will help thee. 
“ Every heart vibrates to that iron string.” Accept 
thy place in the ranks, and throw thy whole self into 


“I WILL.” 199 

the battle of progress. Whatever thy title, thou art 
a hero if thou standest in the van, fronting the peril 
at which others shrink. 

The real difference between men is energy. A strong will, 
a settled purpose, an invincible determination, can accomplish 
almost anything; and in this lies the distinction between great 
men and little men. — Fuller. 

There dwelt in him a mighty will, which merely said to the 
serving company of impulses, let it be. Such a will is not 
stoicism, which rules merely over internal malefactors, or 
knaves, or prisoners of war, or children ; but it is that genially 
energetic spirit which conditions and binds the healthy savages 
of our bosoms, and which says more royally than the Spanish 
regent to others, “ I, the king.” — Richter. 

Woe to the child who happens to be born with a weak will in 
New England. His is the fatal error in all eyes in our energetic 
community. To be inefficient or shiftless is the unpardonable 
sin to the mind of a born New Englander.— James Freeman 
Clarke. 

Have the spirit of the old Indian, who, when wrestling with 
a much dried piece of venison, was asked, “ Do you like that ? ” 
and stolidly replied, “He is my victual, and I will like him.” — 
McConaughy. 

Think not the distant stars are cold; say not ‘the forces of 
the universe are against thee; believe not that the course of 
things below is a relentless fate, for thou canst see the stars, 
thou canst use the forces: if right thy will is unconquerable, 
and by it thou art the maker and the lord of destiny. — Giles. 

Young man, Destiny is less inexorable than it appears. The 
resources of the great Ruler of the Universe are not so scanty 
and so stern as to deny to men the divine privilege of h ree 
Will; all of us can carve out our own way, and God can make 
our very contradictions harmonize with his solemn ends. — 
Bulwer. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


We sometimes meet an original gentleman who, if manners had not 
existed, would have invented them. — Emerson. 

Courtesy was born and had her name 
In princely halls; 

But her purest life may be the same 
In humble walls. — Ira Hoioard. 

Courtesy begets courtesy; it is a passport to popularity. The way 
in which things are done is often more important than the things them¬ 
selves. — Rev. J. E. C. We lid on. 

Gentleness is the great point to be observed in the study of manners. 

— N. P. Willis. 

Good manners and good morals are sworn friends and firm allies. 

— Bartol. 

I have found by experience that nothing is more useful to man than 
gentleness and affability. — Terence. 

We cannot always oblige, but we can always speak obligingly. — 
Voltaire. 

Politeness induces morality. Serenity of manners requires serenity 
of mind. — Julia Ward Howe. 

A beautiful smile is to the female countenance what the sunbeam is 
to the landscape: it embellishes an inferior face, and redeems an ugly 
one. — Lavater. 

Speak gently! ’tis a little thing 
Dropped in the heart’s deep well; 

The good, the joy that it may bring, 

Eternity shall tell. — Langford. 

Were we as eloquent as angels, we should please some men, some 
women, and some children much more by listening than by talking. 

— C. C. Colton. 

Immodest words admit of no defense, 

For want of decency is want of sense.— Roscommon. 
Conceit may puff a man up, but never prop him up. — Raskin. 


“ Here, get right away,” shouted the hall-man of 
the big Stewart office building in Hew York City, to 
an elderly woman, plainly dressed, who had just 
entered ; “ we don’t allow any book-agents here, see ? ” 

200 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


201 


This rude remark attracted the attention of a 
prominent lawyer, who saluted the woman with 
great deference and conducted her to his office. 

“That was Hetty Green,” said he to the hall- 
man when his visitor had gone; “ she has an in¬ 
come of $10,000 a day; and, more than that, 
she has a mortgage on this very building for 
$1,250,000.” 

“Can you write a good hand?” asked a man of a 
boy who applied for a situation. “ Yaas,” was the 
answer. “ Are you good at figures?” “ Yaas,” was 
the answer again. “ That will do, I don’t want 
you,” said the merchant. After the boy had gone, 
a friend said, “ I know that lad to be an honest, 
industrious boy; why don’t you try him ? ” “ Be¬ 

cause he has not learned to say, ‘ Yes, sir,’ and ‘Ho, 
sir,’ ” replied the merchant. “ If he answered me as 
he did, how will he answer customers?” 

Perhaps no one thing, outside of downright hon¬ 
esty, contributes so much to a young man’s success 
in life as a fine manner, courtesy, gentlemanliness. 
Other things being equal, of two persons making 
application for a position, the one with the best 
manners receives the appointment. First impres¬ 
sions are everything. A rough, rude, coarse manner 
creates an instantaneous prejudice, closes hearts, and 
bars doors against us. The language of the face 
and manner are the instantaneous short-hand of the 
mind, which is very quickly read. 

Young people with winning, pleasing manners 
have much less to contend with, a much wider 


202 


SUCCESS. 


opportunity for success in life, than the cross-grained, 
coarse, and uncouth. 

A fine manner with an ugly face, and even a de¬ 
formed body, is an infinitely greater factor in winning 
one’s way in the world, than a pretty face and a per¬ 
fect physique with bad manners. 

“ Politeness is as natural to delicate natures as 
perfume is to flowers.” 

How many people will walk a considerable dis¬ 
tance out of their way, perhaps to an inferior store, 
simply to be waited upon by a polite and obliging 
salesman. Everybody hates snobbishness and im¬ 
politeness, and nobody likes to be snubbed. Many 
a large firm owes its success or failure to the manner 
in which its patrons are treated by employees, and 
there are many proprietors of establishments who 
neglect this most important feature of their business. 

When old Zachariah Fox, the great merchant of 
Liverpool, was asked by what means he contrived 
to realize so large a fortune, he replied, “ Friend, by 
one article alone, in which thou mayest deal, too, if 
thou pleasest, — civility.” 

Inured to poverty and hardships, a Green Mountain 
lad of twenty years was not disheartened to find him¬ 
self alone and friendless in a town of Illinois, with 
only a few pennies in his possession, no clothes but 
those he wore, and his fortune to win. JSTo, he was 
not daunted, — that was what he left his home for; 
he intended to make something of himself. 

His bright, determined face so pleased an auctioneer 
who was looking for a clerk, that he offered him a 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


203 


position at two dollars a clay while the sale should 
last. He worked so hard and was so cheery that the 
villagers, completely won by him, felt they must 
keep him, which they did by installing him as a 
school-teacher. During his leisure hours he studied 
law,. until at the age of twenty-one he opened his 
office and began work as a lawyer. 

It is remarkable to note how steadily he became 
prominent, rising from membership in the Illinois 
Legislature, to Secretary of that state, and then to a 
judgeship in the Supreme Court. After three years’ 
service there, Stephen A. Douglas was elected to 
Congress, where he remained as Senator and Repre¬ 
sentative the rest of his life; and, talented though 
he was, it was always his genial, pleasant manner 
that made him so popular. 

The man who thrives in any calling is not always 
the ablest, the shrewdest, or the most laborious, but 
he is almost invariably one who has shown a willing¬ 
ness to please and be pleased, who has responded to 
the advances of others, not now and then, with con¬ 
scious effort, but heartily, through nature and habit, 
while his rival has sniffed and frowned and snubbed 
away every helping hand. 

A young lady spending a rainy evening at the 
house of an elderly gentleman wanted a cab to take 
her home. Her host started to engage one. “ Do 
let the maid go,” said she. “ My dear, the maid is 
also a woman,” was the grave reply. 

The man was the late George Higinbotham, Chief 
Justice of Victoria. His courtesy towards women 


204 


SUCCESS. 


was regardless of rank or personal attractiveness. 
He would take off his hat to his cook and bow to 
her as graciously as though she were a duchess. 

The way any man treats the members of his own 
household in daily life is a sure index of his disposi¬ 
tion and character. He who is gentle with his 
family, and considerate towards his servants, may 
be reasonably depended upon for courtesy and con¬ 
sideration in all the relations of life. 

General Robert E. Lee was on his way to Rich¬ 
mond, and was seated in the extreme end of a rail¬ 
road car, every seat of which was occupied. At one 
of the stations, an aged woman of humble appearance 
entered the car, carrying a large basket. She walked 
the length of the aisle and not a man offered her a 
seat. When she was opposite General Lee’s seat, he 
arose promptly and said, “ Madam, take this seat.” In¬ 
stantly a score of men were on their feet, and a chorus 
of voices said, “ General, have my seat.” “ No, gen¬ 
tlemen,” he replied, “ if there w r as no seat for this 
old lady, there is no seat for me.” It was not long 
before the car was almost empty. It was too warm 
to be comfortable. General Lee sounded the keynote 
of a true gentleman in his unselfishness and considera¬ 
tion for others. 

The punishment for bad manners is as certain as 
the punishment for crime. By common consent, 
society banishes the bad-mannered. 

A certain New York carriage-dealer was in the 
habit of reserving his good manners for wealthy cus¬ 
tomers, and was particularly gruff to those whom he 



ROBERT E. LEE. 

Show courtesy to others, not because they are gentlemen, but because you 


are one. 


Civility costs nothing but buys everything.” 










































































































- 


























































CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


205 


suspected of having shallow purses. He was stand¬ 
ing in his door one dajq when a plainly dressed man, 
wearing a rough overcoat and an unpolished pair of 
heavy boots, walked up and said, civilly, “Good 
day, sir, are you the owner of this establishment?” 
“ Well, I am,” was the curt reply. lie did not in¬ 
tend to be taken in by any such looking chap com¬ 
ing around and pretending to be a customer. “ Have 
you any fine carriages for sale ? ” was the next query. 
“Well, I have.” “Can I look at them?” said the 
persevering stranger. “You can do as you please: 
there they are.” lie must have wished for a car¬ 
riage then and there, or he would not have taken 
such an ungracious permission. However, he seemed 
to take no notice of the dealer’s boorishness, but ex¬ 
amined the carriages carefully, and finally fixed on 
one he would like. Its price was two hundred 
dollars. “I will call and give you my decision to¬ 
morrow,” he said, on leaving. “ Oh, yes,” said the 
carriage-man, satirically, “you’ll call to-morrow cer¬ 
tainly,” and he walked away, whistling. The stranger 
called next day and counted out the bills to the 
astonishment of the dealer, who looked him over 
from hat to boots, in newly awakened respect. Next 
he examined each bill with care, to make sure they 
were all genuine. Then a panic seized him to know 
who it was he had been treating so rudely. “ I sup¬ 
pose you would like a receipt?” he stammered at 
length. “It might be as well.” “ What name?” he 
inquired, preparing to write. “Washington Irving,” 
was the reply. The admirer of the great and de- 


206 


SUCCESS. 


spiser of the poor was thunderstruck. He would 
have dropped on his knees to apologize, if that 
would have made the case any better. But Irving 
was too much of a gentleman to take pleasure in 
his discomfiture, as a narrow mind would surely 
have done. He waived all apologies, bade him a 
courteous “ Good day,” and left him to get over his 
chagrin as best he could. 

In Chinese visiting etiquette, the rank of the 
caller is denoted by the size of his card. Thus the 
visiting card of a high mandarin would be an im- 
mense roll of paper, neatly tied up. Admiral Porter 
engaged a Chinese servant, and Mrs. Porter immedi¬ 
ately held a “reception.” John Chinaman attended 
the door, and received with great disgust the small 
pasteboards of the visitors; and, evidently with an 
opinion of his own of the low condition of the 
Admiral’s friends, pitched the cards into a basket, 
and with scant ceremony showed their owners into 
the drawing-room. But presently the gas-man called 
with a bill, — a big piece of cream-colored paper. 
That card satisfied John; with deep reverence he 
received it. With low salaams he ushered the bearer 
not only into the drawing-room, but, with profound 
genuflections, to the dismay of the gas-man and the 
horror of Mrs. Porter, right up to the center of the 
room where that lady was receiving her distinguished 
guests; and then John, with another humble obei¬ 
sance, meekly retired, doubtless supposing that the 
owner of that card was a person of high distinction. 

When Thomas Jefferson was Vice-President he 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


207 


was once traveling from Philadelphia to Washington, 
and, when night came on, had reached Baltimore. 
He had been riding all day over muddy roads; and, 
when he reached the chief tavern of the place, kept 
by a Scotchman named Boyden, he appeared like a 
rough farmer in his ordinary clothes. 

Several j^oung “ bucks ” were in the room, and, 
winking knowingly at Boyden as he glanced at the 
stranger, gave him to understand they thought the 
man would do no credit to the inn. 

“ I wish a room to myself, if I can get it,” said 
Jefferson. 

“ A room all to yourself! ” gasped Boyden. “ Ho, 
we have no room to spare, all full.” 

The Vice-President rode away to another inn with 
a person who had recognized him. 

A few minutes later a man rode up to Boyden’s 
and said, “ Do you know the gentleman who just 
rode away from here?” 

“ Gentleman! there was no gentleman here, — only 
a common-looking country fellow, a farmer. I told 
him we had no room for such chaps as he.” 

“ Well,” said the caller, laughing, “ that common¬ 
looking country fellow was the Vice-President of 
the United States, — Thomas Jefferson, the greatest 
man alive.” 

“Murder! what have I done!” shouted Boyden. 
He had a room made ready in the best style, and one 
of his friends was dispatched to find Jefferson, make 
apologies to him, and invite him to return. 

After hearing the humble apology, Jefferson said 


20S 


SUCCESS. 


to the messenger, “ Tell Mr. Boyden I appreciate his 
kind intentions, but I have engaged rooms now, and 
if he had no room for the muddy farmer, he can have 
none for the Vice-President.” 

We might multiply anecdotes indefinitely to illus¬ 
trate the common propensity of human nature to 
pay court to fine clothes and appearances, and to 
reserve good manners for personages and occasions, 
rather than to cultivate that catholic courtesy which 
should never be absent from the heart, and which 
recognizes the divine image in every created being. 

Tens of thousands of professional men, without 
any special ability, have succeeded in making for¬ 
tunes by the practice of a courteous manner. Many 
a doctor owes his reputation and success to the recom¬ 
mendations of friends and patients who remembered 
his kindness, friendliness, considerateness, and, above 
all, politeness. This has been the experience of count¬ 
less numbers of successful lawyers, divines, merchants, 
tradesmen, and men in every class and walk of life. 

One day, as Erastus Corning, a lame man of not 
very prepossessing appearance, was about to step 
from the railroad platform to the cars, a conductor 
shouted to him: “Come, hurry up, old man ; don’t 
be all day about it, the train can’t wait.” The con¬ 
ductor went round to take up the tickets. A passen¬ 
ger said to him : “ Do you know the gentleman you 
ordered on board?” “No, and I don’t want to.” 

“ It may be worth your while to make his acquaint¬ 
ance. He is the president of the road, and lie’ll take 
your head off.” 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


209 


The conductor gave a low whistle and looked as 
if he’d think about it. He put on a bold face, sought 
the president, and offered an apology. “ Personally 
I care nothing about it,” said Mr. Corning. “ If you 
had been so rude to any one else, I would have dis¬ 
charged you on the spot,” he continued. “You saw 
that I was lame and that I moved with difficulty. 
The fact that you did not know who I was does not 
alter the complexion of your act. I’ll keep no one 
in my employ who is uncivil to travelers.” 

Civility, manners, and courtesy are important in¬ 
vestments relative to monetary success. It is said 
that the successful dealer in snuff — Lundy Foote — 
owed his prosperit}^ to his polite manner of thanking 
his poorest customers, and asking them to “ Please call 
again.” 

Chancellor Walworth held private court at the 
Springs. He was not a stylish liver, but moved 
about Saratoga without ostentation. A young law¬ 
yer, who was sitting on the piazza, had a motion 
before the court at noon. An old man on a bony 
white steed rode up to the hotel, suggesting, as the 
lawyer said, “ Heath on the pale horse.” The young 
counselor was ripe for fun. He walked down to the 
curbstone and opened a conversation with the old 
gentleman; asked the price of his horse, his speed, 
age, and record, and made himself quite entertain¬ 
ing. A friend said as he came back, “ I thought you 
did not know Chancellor Walworth ? ” “ Never saw 

him in my life.” “That’s a pretty story. You have 
been talking and laughing with him for half an 


210 


SUCCESS. 


hour.” “Then I’ve ruined my case. My motion is 
an important one, and I dare not look the judge in 
the face.” He got some one to appear for him, and 
learned that civility, at a venture, never misses its 
mark. 

An English gentleman, visiting Turin at the time 
when travelers attracted more attention than at 
present, sauntered out to see the place. Happening 
to meet a regiment of infantry, he took a position to 
see it pass, when a young captain, desirous of making 
a display before the stranger, missed his footing, and, 
in trying to save himself, lost his hat. The specta¬ 
tors laughed and looked at the Englishman, expect¬ 
ing him to do likewise. On the contrary, he not 
only retained his composure, but promptly picked up 
the hat, and presented it with an air of kindness to 
its confused owner. The officer received it with a 
blush of surprise and gratitude, and hurried to rejoin 
his company. There was a murmur of applause, and 
the stranger passed on. Though the scene of a 
moment, and without a word spoken, it touched 
every heart. 

The incident reached the ears of the commanding 
general, and when the Englishman reached his hotel 
he found an aide-de-camp waiting to request his com¬ 
pany to dinner at headquarters. In the evening he 
was taken to the court, at that time the most bril¬ 
liant in Europe, and was received with much atten¬ 
tion. During his stay at Turin he was treated royally, 
and on his departure received letters of introduction 
to the different states of Italy. Thus a private 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


211 


gentleman of moderate means, by a graceful impulse 
of Christian feeling, was enabled to travel through a 
foreign country with more real distinction than some 
persons of royal birth. 

Harrison, a Philadelphia machinist, worked at the 
bench, and was noted for his civility. A party of 
gentlemen visited the establishment one day ; and, 
in the absence of the owner, Harrison entertained 
them. He threw everything open, and answered 
intelligibly all questions. One of the visitors ex¬ 
pressed his surprise at the courtesy shown, saying 
that they found it very difficult to get access to 
other manufactories. A card was handed to the 
young mechanic, with the request that he call on 
the gentlemen in the evening. The visitors were a 
commission sent out by the Emperor of Russia to 
acquaint themselves with the machinery of America. 
An offer was made to the young man to return 
with the embassy to Russia. He made a contract 
that night that brought both fame and fortune. 
He carried his courtesy and capacity to a good 
market. 

“ My first impression of Mr. Lincoln,” says a lady 
of Springfield, “ was made by one of his kind deeds. 
I was going with a little friend for my first trip 
alone on the railroad cars. It was an epoch of my 
life. I had planned for it and dreamed of it for 
weeks. The day came, but as the hour of departure 
approached, the hackman failed to call for my trunk. 
As the minutes passed, I realized, in grief, that I 
should miss the train. I was standing by the gate, 


212 ■ 


SUCCESS. 


my hat and gloves on, sobbing as if my heart would 
break, when Mr. Lincoln came by. 

“‘ Why, what’s the matter ? ’ he asked, and I poured 
out my story. 

“‘How big’s the trunk? There’s still time, if it 
isn’t too big,’ and he pushed through the gate and 
up to the door. My mother took him up to my room, 
where my little old-fashioned trunk stood. ‘ Oh, ho! ’ 
he cried, ‘ Avipe your eyes and come on quick.’ And 
before I knew Avhat he Avas going to do, he had 
shouldered the trunk, Avas doAvnstairs and striding 
out of the yard. DoAvn the street he Avent, as fast 
as his long legs could carry him, I trotting behind, 
drying my tears as I Avent. We reached the station 
in time. Mr. Lincoln put me on the train, kissed me 
good-by, and told me to have a good time. It Avas 
just like him.” 

Queen Victoria once opened a large hospital Avith 
imposing ceremonies. Afterwards she passed through 
it, tenderly inquiring about the sufferers. One of 
them, a little child of four years old, had said, “ If I 
could only see the Queen, I Avould get Avell.” Imme¬ 
diately the motherly Queen requested to be led into 
the little children’s Avard. Seating herself by the bed¬ 
side of the little sufferer, she said in gentle tones, “ My 
darling, I hope you will be a little better noAv.” It Avas 
a simple act, but it Avas worthy of the queenly woman. 

“Civility,” said Lady Montague, “costs nothing 
and buys everything.” 

“Win hearts,” said Burleigh to Queen Elizabeth, 
“ and you have all men’s hearts and purses.” 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


213 


What must have been the fascination of manner 
of the first Napoleon, that could lead the very sol¬ 
diers sent to take him prisoner to bear him back in 
triumph to a throne ! 

Lord Chesterfield declared that it was his manner, 
irresistible either by man or woman (especially by 
the latter), that made the fortune of the Duke of 
Marlborough. “ There is no policy,” says Lord Lyt- 
ton, “ like politeness; and a good manner is the 
best thing in the world, either to get one a good 
name, or to supply the want of it.” 

It is said that ancient kings of Egypt used to 
commence speeches to their subjects with the for¬ 
mula, “ By the head of Pharaoh, ye are all swine.” 
We need not wonder that those who take this swine- 
tlieory view of the men and women they meet should 
be careless about setting their tastes and feelings at 
defiance. Like the boy with the echo, if we speak 
civilly to others, they, like the echo, will speak 
civilly to us. Courtesy begets courtesy : it is a pass¬ 
port to popularity. 

Learn to say kind things about people, — it will 
help you wonderfully. 

An English lord reproved a boy leading a calf for 
his lack of courtesy. “ If your lordship will hold my 
calf, I will pull off my hat,” said the boy. 

It is Garibaldi entering mighty London and, amid 
all the tokens of welcome of the English nation, 
stooping to kiss the laborer’s child, and in that single 
act “ folding to his heart the working people of Eng¬ 
land.” It is good George Herbert stooping to lift the 


214 


SUCCESS. 


wheel of the peasant’s cart out of the ugly rut, and 
saying in response to the raillery of his friends on his 
soiled appearance and the performance of so menial 
an act, that it would “ make music for him at mid¬ 
night.” It is Wellington making room for the poor 
man at the altar rail, and remarking that all were equal 
there. It is the dying Sir Ralph Abercromby return¬ 
ing Duncan Roy’s blanket, or the King of the Belgians 
sending the wreath of immortelles to the weeping 
mother, as he happened to witness from the palace 
window the funeral procession of an unknown child. 
It is these and a thousand other sympathetic deeds or 
self-denying heroisms in little things repeated daily, in 
palace and in cot, that serve to illustrate high courtesy. 

The first law of good manners, which epitomizes 
all the rest, is, “ Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thy¬ 
self.” True courtesy is simply the application of 
this golden rule to all our social conduct. McCo- 
naughy tells us that there never was a more fascinat¬ 
ing woman in France than Madame Recamier, and 
she kept her sway over the hearts of others down to 
a very old age. Authors brought their books and 
read to her, although she was no book-maker herself. 
Artists must show her their pictures, though she was 
no painter. Statesmen talked over their fervid plans 
to her, though she was no political schemer herself. 
It was her genuine interest in whatever affected her 
friends, her hearty sympathy in all their hopes and 
fears, that made her more than admired ; it made 
her warmly beloved, and threw a charm about her 
very presence. 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


215 


“ In memory of our mother,” was chiseled on one 
side of a tombstone, and, “ She always made home 
happy,” on the other. What nobler record could 
any woman leave ? 

There is a vast amount of truth in iEsop’s old 
familiar fable of the wind and the sun. Both tried 
which could first make the traveler part with his 
coat; but let the wind blow and bluster till it was 
tired, he only wrapped it closer round him and clung 
to it tighter; whereas, the sun with the insinuating 
warmth of his rays, gradually induced him first to 
relax his hold, and finally to throw the garment aside 
and fling himself down in the shade of a tree. 

The Duke of Wellington was the greatest soldier 
England has had in this century. When the great 
warrior had done fighting, and had retired to private 
life, he was as meek and gentle as a little child. He 
was always polite. He had been accustomed to com¬ 
mand large armies, and to give orders that no one 
dared to disobey, yet “ if you please ” was constantly 
on his lips. 

It is said they were the last words he ever spoke. 
The “ Iron Duke,” as he was called, is on his death¬ 
bed. A faithful servant is attending him, and, think¬ 
ing the Duke is thirsty, pours out a little tea in a 
saucer and asks if he will have a drink. “Yes, if 
you please.” 

Were there any incompatibility between strength 
and gentleness, then possibly we might be pardoned 
for dispensing with the latter; but the two are not 
only compatible, but most beautiful in combination. 


216 


SUCCESS. 


The man is little better than a fool who imagines that 
uncouthness indicates genius, or that rudeness of 
manner means robustness of character. 

“I am told that you entertain travelers,” said 
Benjamin Franklin to the old lady to whom the serv¬ 
ant referred him when he knocked at a door, one cold 
January afternoon; “ I wish to engage lodging for 
the night.” He had returned to Boston after an 
absence of several years, and stood in the presence 
of his mother, then a widow ; but, as he was greatly 
changed, he thought he would play the stranger to 
see if she would recognize him by maternal instinct. 

“ I do not keep a tavern,” said Mrs. Franklin, 
eying the visitor coldly, and speaking in a forbidding 
tone. “ It is true that, to oblige some members of 
the legislature, I board them during the session. 
There are four boarding here now, and all the beds 
are full ”; and her knitting-needles clicked sharply 
as if to say, “ If you have finished your business, the 
sooner you leave the better.” 

“ It is very chilly, madam,” said Franklin, as he 
wrapped his coat round him, and affected to shiver. 

“ You may warm yourself before you go,” said 
Mrs. Franklin, pointing to a chair; and then she left 
the room to prepare coffee, for her boarders had 
entered. 

When the coffee was served Benjamin waited for 
no invitation, but took his seat with the family. 
Apples were passed around, and he partook freely, 
and then exercised his fascinating conversational 
powers to their utmost, holding the attention of the 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


217 


company by the solidity of his modest remarks until 
eight o’clock, when supper was announced. 

Mrs. Franklin had been at her work, and thought 
her unwelcome visitor had gone long before; but 
what was her resentment when he seated himself 
at the table with the freedom of a member of the 
family ! She waited until supper was over, and then 
told him he must seek lodging elsewhere. Franklin 
replied that he would by no means incommode her 
family, but with her leave he would smoke one 
more pipe with her boarders. Again came such a 
stream of that wonderful talk that no one noticed 
the flight of time until all were startled, during a 
pause in the conversation, to hear the clock strike 
eleven. 

“ I think myself imposed upon,” said Mrs. Franklin 
with great asperity, “ and I insist upon your leaving 
this house at once.” 

Franklin apologized, slipped on his greatcoat and 
hat, bade the company a polite good evening, and 
opened the door, when a roaring wind whirled a 
shower of drifting snow into the entry. “ My dear 
madam,” said he, “ can you turn me out in this 
dreadful storm? I am a stranger and shall certainly 
perish in the streets. You look like a charitable lady ; 
I shouldn’t think you could turn a dog from your 
door on this tempestuous night.” 

“ Don’t speak to me of charity,” said the offended 
woman ; “ charity begins at home. It is your own 
fault that you tarried so long. To be plain with you, 
sir, I do not like your looks or your conduct, and I 


218 


SUCCESS. 


fear you have some bad designs in thus introducing 
yourself to my family.” 

All the boarders begged, however, that the stranger 
might be allowed to sleep in an easy-chair before the 
fire, as no bed could be furnished. To this Mrs. 
Franklin reluctantly consented, put a fork over the 
latch of the parlor door, ordered her man servant to 
sleep with his clothes on, and seize the vagrant at the 
first noise he made in trying to plunder the house, 
and retired, taking her silver spoons and pepper-box. 

She rose before the sun, unfastened the parlor door 
very quietly, and peeped in. She was so agreeably 
surprised to find her guest sleeping, that her mistrust 
changed to confidence. When he awoke, she greeted 
him with a cheerful “Good morning,” asked how he 
had rested, and even invited him to partake of her 
breakfast, which was served before that of her 
boarders. 

“ And pray, sir,” said she as she sipped her choco¬ 
late, “ as you appear to be a stranger here, to what 
distant country do you belong?” 

“ I, madam ? I belong in Philadelphia.” 

“ If you live in Philadelphia,” said she, “ perhaps 
you know our Ben.” 

“ Who, madam ? ” asked her visitor. 

“ Why, Ben Franklin; my Ben. He is the dearest 
child that ever blessed a mother.” 

“ What! ” exclaimed the stranger, “is Ben. Franklin, 
the printer, your son ? Why, he is my most intimate 
friend ; he and I lodge in the same room.” 

“ O God, forgive me! ” exclaimed Mrs. Franklin, 


CONDUCT AS A FINE AET. 


219 


raising her tearful eyes to heaven, “and have I suf¬ 
fered an acquaintance of my Benny to sleep on a 
hard chair, while I myself rested in a good bed ? ” 

At this point Franklin made himself known, and 
was welcomed with all the fervor of a doting mother; 
but he always thereafter maintained that there is no 
such thing as instinctive recognition of a relative. 

Politeness is a key which grown people may use as 
well as children. 

“ Sir,” exclaimed Dr. Johnson, “ a man has no 
more right to say an uncivil thing than to act one; 
no more right to say a rude thing to another than to 
knock him down.” 

Chesterfield does not exaggerate in saying that 
the art of pleasing is, in truth, the art of rising, of 
distinguishing one’s self, of making a figure and a 
fortune in the world. 

W. D. Howells, in his delightful paper on Long¬ 
fellow, speaks of the poet as the finest artist of all 
his gifted contemporaries, yet he says Longfellow 
was the most perfectly modest man he ever saw, 
ever imagined; that he was patient in all things, 
and gentle beyond all mere gentlemanliness. Like 
Phillips Brooks, he never denied himself to those who 
came to his door; and, when asked if he were not 
much interrupted, said, with a faint sigh, not more 
than was good for him, he fancied,—if it were not 
for interruptions he might overwork. His generosity 
in the matter of autographs is well known, but we 
are glad to read that, when requested to furnish 
fifty signatures, he refused the lady who wished to 


SUCCESS. 


m 

offer them as a novel attraction to her guests at a 
lunch party. 

Habit counts for so much in little things that one 
cannot look too carefully after the small courtesies in 
his own conduct. A writer in the Interior describes 
a visit to a home where the young people possess 
the true politeness which habit has made natural. 

One evening last week I entered a room where 
several young men with books and work were sitting 
round the lamp. The young man with the Lexicon 
and the Grammar on the table before him was the 
busiest of the group, but he instantty rose and re¬ 
mained standing until I had taken my seat. 

The little action was automatic; the habit of his 
family is to practice small courtesies, and the boys 
have been trained from childhood to pay deference 
to women. They always rise whenever a lady — 
their mother, sister, friend, or guest of the house — 
comes into the room where they are at work. 

Neither mother nor sister goes out after dark 
without an escort. One of the boys can always go 
out of his way, or find it in his way, to see her safely 
to a friend’s door, or to the meeting which she wishes 
to attend. Most winning and sweet is the air of 
good breeding which these young men have acquired, 
which they wear with an unconscious grace. 

“You should not care so much about the merely 
superficial in conduct,” says a friend. “ Veneering is 
only polish laid on. I approve of the man or woman 
who is honest, sincere. I can pardon a little brusque¬ 
ness, which may be only his misfortune.” 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


221 


We are apt to fancy that there is a natural conflict 
between goodness of heart and elegance of deport¬ 
ment. Life would be far more agreeable, if polite¬ 
ness were more assiduously cultivated. 

A dry-goods salesman in a London house had 
gained such a reputation for patience and politeness 
as to draw a very large patronage. It was said to 
be impossible to provoke him into any symptom of an¬ 
noyance or incivility of expression. A lady of rank, 
hearing of this model of good manners, determined 
to subject him to a severe test; but, failing to disturb 
him by a long series of petty vexations, was so de¬ 
lighted by his equanimity that she provided him with 
the capital necessary to start in business for himself. 

Perhaps in no other store in the world is there 
such real politeness and determination to please as in 
the Bon Marche in Paris. There is no other advertis¬ 
ing equal to it. Aristide and Marguerite Boucicault, 
the founders of this establishment, were poor peas¬ 
ants. By severe economy the husband owned the 
horse and cart with which he peddled linen. They 
spent their spare time studying together until they had 
a fair education. They started a little store on the 
spot where the Bon Marche now stands. Their great 
kindness and courtesy to customers soon attracted 
trade, and they added store after store until the 
great Marche resulted. Madame Boucicault survived 
her husband and conducted the great establishment 
alone. She established the co-operative system among 
her employees, and left them in bequests $4,000,000. 
Her employees almost worshiped her for her great 


222 


SUCCESS. 


solicitude for their welfare. She was a great admirer 
of M. Pasteur and made him a present of $20,000. 

Do not such lives put to shame the thousands of 
lazy, shiftless, changeable drones, who are forever 
complaining and blaming Fate for their unfortunate 
condition ? 

Thirty years ago there was a clerk at a Fitchburg, 
Massachusetts, hotel, named Easterbrook, who prob¬ 
ably had few equals in politeness. He was gentle¬ 
manly to every guest, rich or poor, in broadcloth or 
homespun. The moment you stepped into the office, 
he was ready to greet you with a most cordial wel¬ 
come. All wants were anticipated with such a gen¬ 
uine brotherly kindness, that one felt he was in the 
house of his best friend. At the depot, on the arrival 
of trains, his quiet and gentlemanly approach to a 
stranger was so attractive that one was sure to accept 
a seat in his coach. There was no catching hold of 
your satchel, and importuning you with the fierce¬ 
ness of a starving hyena; no howling, no swearing 
at runners of other hotels. When he secured a cus¬ 
tomer he had a life-lease of him. It paid the hotel 
proprietors, and paid its guests with genuine satis¬ 
faction, that they had been well cared for, and if 
they never traveled that way again, they advertised 
the house wherever they journeyed. 

In another large hotel a room-clerk has an extraor¬ 
dinary salary. lie is polite, attentive, and cordial. 
He can stow away more people in the nooks and 
corners of the house and make them feel comfort¬ 
able than any other living man. He came down one 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


223 


morning and found a well-known customer pacing 
the office in evident bad temper. To his cheery good 
morning the clerk received a gruff reply. “ When 
did you come in?” “ Last night.” “I hope you 
have a good room.” “ I have not. They sent me 
up to thunder, and there is not room in my quarters 
to swing a cat.” “Oh, that stupid night-clerk did 
not know you brought your cat with you. I’ll 
manage it after breakfast. You shall have a room 
big enough to swing half a dozen cats.” With a 
hearty laugh the customer turned off to breakfast. 

Michael Angelo was a great man, but his manners 
were cold and forbidding. He was sour and irritable, 
and while he had many admirers on account of his 
great genius, he had very few friends. Columbus 
was very unsocial, and the great Dante was never 
invited to dinner in his life. 

It was the gracious manner of Charles J. Fox that 
made him beloved of all, even after he had gambled 
away his last dollar and politically was the most 
unpopular man in all England. 

Some thirty years ago, Mr. Green, an amiable 
Englishman, seeing a rather shabby old man looking 
for a seat in church, opened his pew-door, beckoned 
to him, and placed him in a comfortable corner, with 
prayer and hymn books. The old gentleman, who 
carefully noted the name in these, expressed his 
thanks warmly at the close of the services. Time 
had effaced the incident from Mr. Green’s recollec¬ 
tion, when he one day received an intimation that, 
by the death of a gentleman named Wilkinson, he 


224: 


SUCCESS. 


had become entitled to thirty-live thousand dollars a 
year. 

Mr. Wilkinson was a solitary old man, without 
relatives. Green’s act prepossessed him in his favor; 
he inquired about him, and found that he bore the 
highest character. 

General Washington had a courteous return for his 
politeness from a little girl who was opening her 
mother’s door to let him pass out. “ Thank you, 
my dear,” said he. “ I wish, sir, it was to let you 
in,” she replied. 

Sir Hugo said to Daniel Deronda, “ Be courteous, 
be obliging, but don’t give yourself over to be melted 
down for the benefit of the tallow-trade.” 

It costs some men a much greater effort than 
others to be polite. It was said with bitter spleen 
of an English statesman, “ Canning can never be a 
gentleman for more than three hours at a time.” 

It was the great aim of the distinguished scholar, 
Dr. Arnold, to make his pupils feel “ like Christian 
gentlemen.” 

Few better examples of dignified courtesy can be 
presented to young men than that of Washington. 
At the age of thirteen he compiled for himself a 
code of manners and morals, which, one of his biog¬ 
raphers says, “ Is fitted to soften and polish the 
manners, to keep alive the best affections of the 
heart, to impress the obligation of the moral virtues, 
to teach what is due to others in social relations, and 
above all, to inculcate the practice of a perfect self- 
control.” 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


225 


A great deal might be said about the bearing of 
the teacher, his attitude, his gait, and the general 
carriage of his body. A young man who was gradu¬ 
ated as the prize student of his class was turned away 
after a month’s trial in a country district-school; he 
went round with his hands in his pockets, and was so 
crude in behavior that he became the laughing-stock 
of the school. Culture indicates superiority, and 
superiority impresses others. 

A young boot-black in the streets of New York 
obtained a position in a bank by his pleasant “ Yes, 
sir,” and “No, sir,” to everybody. It went far 
towards making him president of the bank. “I don’t 
know,” “ Don’t care,” “ None of my business,” never 
pays. Many a boy has been lifted out of poverty to 
affluence, in the end, by his gentlemanly manners in 
his boyhood days. 

Some men, by dint of extraordinary ability, despite 
boorish, uncouth manners, have succeeded in the at¬ 
tainment of fame and fortune; but how much sooner 
would their labors have been crowned with success 
had they been known for suavity and graceful cour¬ 
tesy? Numerous anecdotes are told of Abernetliy, 
who added to his wonderful surgical skill a cold man¬ 
ner and brusqueness which would have utterly ruined 
a man of less ability. It is related that, upon one 
occasion, a lady who had called to consult him was 
so annoyed by his rude manners that she threw his 
fee upon the table and said sharpty, “ I had heard 
of but never witnessed your vulgar rudeness before.” 
He had written a prescription. “ What am I to do 


226 


SUCCESS. 


with this ? ” she asked. “ Anything you like; throw 
it on the fire if you will.” She did so, and left the 
apartment. Abernethy hastily followed her to re¬ 
turn the fee, which she would not condescend to 
notice, and he flung the money after her. A lady 
upon another occasion complained that when she 
lifted her arm higher than usual, the pain was in¬ 
tense. “ Then why do you lift it higher than usual ? ” 
was the gruff response. It was certainly his skill, 
not his manners, that attracted his patients. 

While coarseness may exist with strength of char¬ 
acter and righteousness of life, it is always a blemish 
to them, and never a help. 

Graceful manners soon become a “ second nature,” 
if.one really sets himself in earnest to acquire them. 
The intercourse of good society will inevitably con¬ 
fer them, and that, too, almost unconsciously. One 
naturally and insensibly acquires “the air, the ad¬ 
dress, and the turn ” of those with whom he converses. 
Let one but consider for a moment the origin of the 
codes of etiquette which prevail in polite society, and 
he cannot fail to see how naturally fine manners 
arose. 

“ His manner is worth a hundred thousand dollars 
to him! ” One of the chief men of the nation said 
this about a boy. “It wouldn’t be worth so much 
to one who meant to be a farmer, or who had no op¬ 
portunities, but to a young college student, with 
ambitions, it is worth at least one hundred thousand 
dollars to him.” 

The boy was a distant relative of the man, and 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


227 


had been brought up by careful parents in a far-off 
city. Among other things he had been taught to be 
friendly and to think of others before himself. The 
boy was on a visit to the city where the man lived, 
and the two met on the street; the younger recogniz¬ 
ing the elder, promptly went and spoke to him, in a 
cordial, but respectful, way. Of course the man was 
pleased. The sentence above was the outcome of 
this incident. A little later the boy came into the 
room just as the man was struggling into his over¬ 
coat. Hurrying towards him, the boy pulled it up at 
the collar and drew down the wrinkled coat beneath. 
He would have done it for any man, regardless of 
his station. 

Monroe was called, even in his own time, “A 
Gentleman of the Old School.” 

Henry Clay was said to make the most engaging 
bow of any gentleman of his time. 

Andrew Jackson was rough in his manners, but 
he could be polite when he pleased. He was always 
courteous to ladies. 

Byron was affable to his equals, and to those whom 
he wished to please, but haughty and distant to most 
others. 

Talleyrand owed his success in life, to no small ex¬ 
tent, to the uniform courtesy with which he treated 
every one. 

Haydn was the personification of courtesy. He 
once said, “ It does not pay to be impolite, even to a 
dog.” 

General Greene had the reputation of being the 


228 


SUCCESS. 


most polite man in the Revolutionary Army during 
the war for independence. 

Goethe’s manners were simple and unaffected. He 
greeted all men as his equals, and delighted every 
one whom he met. It is said that when he entered 
a restaurant, people would lay down their knives and 
forks to admire him. 

John Adams was so reserved that he generally gave 
the impression that he was suspicious of those with 
whom he was talking. 

Daniel Webster was lofty and dignified. His ab¬ 
straction sometimes created the impression of incivil¬ 
ity where no discourtesy was intended. 

Gladstone is polite to everybody. At his country 
home he knows everybody in the vicinity, and has a 
kindly word for even the poorest farm laborer. 

William Penn’s formal but kindly politeness im¬ 
pressed even the Indians with whom he dealt. One 
of the names given him by them was “ The Good 
Big Chief.” 

Madison made it a point to touch his hat to every 
one who bowed to him, and the front part of his hat- 
brim was sometimes worn threadbare in consequence 
of this punctiliousness. 

Cromwell, in spite of the position which he at¬ 
tained, never departed from the simplicity of life of 
an English country gentleman. In conversation he 
was quiet and unassuming. 

At a great meeting of kings and emperors in 1808, 
at Erfurth, they all attended the play. Alexander 
of Russia sat beside Napoleon. As the sentiment 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


229 


was expressed from the stage, “ The friendship of a 
great man is a gift from the gods,” Alexander rose 
gracefully, took the hand of Napoleon and, bow¬ 
ing, said, “ I experience the truth of that sentiment 
to-day.” 

“ My boy,” said a father to his son, “ treat every¬ 
body with politeness, — even those who are rude to 
you. For remember that you show courtesy to 
others not because they are gentlemen , but because you 
are oneP 

A little girl who was playing with her dog said, 
“ Please excuse me, Duke,” with as much deference 
as if she had been making an apology to a person. 
“ That is a lesson in politeness to us all, ” said one 
who was within hearing. 

As Frederick the Great was one day occupied in 
writing, he happened to observe in a mirror, before 
which he was seated, one of his attendants approach 
a table on which was the King’s snuff-box, and help 
himself therefrom. After finishing the letter the 
King arose, took the snuff-box, which was of great 
value, and, showing it to his attendant, asked if he 
was pleased with it. Somewhat embarrassed, the 
servant replied that he was. “ Take it then,” said 
Frederick, smiling; “ it is hardly large enough for us 
both.” 

A lady who accidentally pushed a street Arab off 
the sidewalk, stopped, apologized, and told him she 
hoped she had not hurt him. u My eyes, Jim,” he 
said to his companion, “ef she don’t speak to me 
jest like I wore standin’ collars; a feller could ’ford 


230 


SUCCESS. 


to git pushed off forty times a day, to git spoke to 
like that.” 

There is no such coward as self-consciousness. 
Edward the Black Prince insisted upon waiting upon 
the princes and kings whom he had conquered, and 
won their admiration by his fine manners. 

Some one has said that on the day of resurrection 
those who have indulged in ridicule will be called to 
the door of paradise, which will be shut in their 
faces. Again, on turning back, they will be called to 
another door, which will be shut as before, and so on 
ad infinitum. Jokes are inestimable for sauce, but 
corrupting for food. Beware of the habit of per¬ 
petual joking or punning. 

Mr. Porter of the Fall River Line was the most 
popular conductor in Massachusetts. He was known 
the country over for his civility. For twenty } 7 ears 
he ran the steamboat train between Fall River and 
Boston. He began life as a brakeman on a freight 
train in Vermont. He seemed as important a part 
of the Fall River Line as the steamer Bristol. 

For the first time in our history a colored man 
was an invited guest at the White House. When 
Lincoln heard that Fred. Douglass was in Washing*- 
ton, he sent his carriage to his boarding-house with 
this message: “Come up and take tea with us.” 
Douglass said, “ Lincoln was the first white man I 
ever spent an hour with who did not remind me that 
I am a negro.” 

We can learn a lesson in good manners from 
foreigners. Ask the proprietor of a store in Vienna 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


231 


the way to a public building or place of interest, and 
the chances are he will leave his store and go with 
you, while in London and in some of our American 
cities, you are fortunate if you do not get snubbed. 

The French are polite to a proverb; but we, as a 
people, seem to be characterized as being a very im¬ 
polite nation. I need not stop to vindicate our 
national character, even if it can be vindicated. But 
this is certain, that we can lay no claim to be con¬ 
sidered in danger of being too polite. I have seen a 
gentleman in a large circle, in attempting to sit 
down, supposing a chair stood behind him, fall flat 
on his back. The company all laughed or tittered 
at his awkward situation, excepting a French gentle¬ 
man present, who ran to him, helped him up, hoped 
it did not hurt him, gave up his own chair, and at 
once entered into a lively conversation to make him 
forget the accident. The company all felt rebuked 
by the politeness of the Frenchman ; but I doubt 
whether, had a similar accident occurred the next 
evening, they would not have laughed as before. 
Politeness was a habit with him, but with the others 
it was not. 

Lest one should be led to think, however, that 
Americans monopolize the disagreeable manners of 
the globe, it may be well to recall Sydney Smith’s ar¬ 
raignment of the manners of our English cousins. “ I 
believe,” he says, “ the English are the most disagree¬ 
able people under the sun ; not so much because Mr. 
John Bull disdains to talk, as that the respected indi¬ 
vidual has nothing to say, and because he totally neg- 


232 


SUCCESS. 


lects manners. Look at a French carter, — he takes 
off his hat to a neighbor carter, and inquires after ‘ la 
sante de madame,’ with a bow that would not have 
disgraced Sir Charles Grandison ; and I have often 
seen a French soubrette with a far better manner 
than an English duchess.” 

Pleasant address, respectful attention to every one, 
— rich or poor, high or low, — is what wins. 

The strongest and bravest men are generally the 
most mild in manner and most regardful of the sus¬ 
ceptibilities and even of the prejudices of others. 

St. Paul gave the keynote to good manners when 
he said, “ Be kindly affectioned one toward another, 
in honor preferring one another.” Good manners 
are to social life what good sunlight is to vegetable 
life, — giving beauty of color and grace of bearing. 

The courtesy of the heart is the secret of good 
manners. “ Beauty is her least charm,” said Talley- 
rand 4 of a lovely woman. 

The perfection of manner is ease and grace, — this 
is the last lesson of a fine nature, and is never found 
in the selfish, the self-conscious, the heartless, — it is 
the flowering out of a fine nature and comes from 
good blood, good breeding, and fine culture. It does 
not come like etiquette from the head, but from a 
kindly heart overflowing with good cheer and a 
genuine interest in the welfare of others. 

Good manners are contagious. Franklin reformed 
the habits of a whole workshop in London. 

Character expresses itself in dress. When the 
morals of a young man begin to deteriorate and his 


CONDUCT AS A FINE ART. 


233 


character to be undermined, it is often indicated in 
his dress, which becomes seedy, slovenly, or unkempt. 
“ Dress makes the man, the want of it the fellow,” 
has been well said, in imitation of Pope. Bad dress 
wounds self-respect. 

A neat suit of clothes communicates a sense of 
neatness to the body; and, in turn, this sense of 
neatness of the person is extended to the work in 
hand. As we feel, so unquestionably do we work. 
Our clothes unmistakably affect our feelings, as any 
man knows who has experienced the sensation that 
comes only when one is attired in a new suit. 

Buffon declared himself utterly incapable of think¬ 
ing to good purpose except in full court dress. This 
he always put on before entering his study, not even 
omitting his sword. 

Shabby clothes are no longer an eccentricity of 
genius. There are men of genius who have achieved 
deserved fame and substantial success who are abso¬ 
lutely indifferent to their appearance, and the world 
overlooks it and forgives it. But this is only possi¬ 
ble with men of commanding genius who are estab¬ 
lished ; and the young man who takes these men as 
models, so far as attire goes, makes a sorry mis¬ 
take. It is given to men of high position and of 
established success to exhibit a great many little 
eccentricities which are not overlooked in a young 
man struggling for a career. 

A firm discharged a young man who had been in 
its employ a long time because he was so “ seedy.” 
He was never tidy in his personal appearance. The 


234 


SUCCESS. 


firm advertised for another manager, and out of 
forty applications one young man was asked to 
call again. 

“ Did you observe his neatly fitting shirt and tie ? ” 
asked one of the partners after he had gone. “ How 
nicely his boots were polished, and how tidy he was! ” 
The young man’s references were looked up, and he 
was engaged the next morning. Several of the 
others might have been better men for the place, but 
a first impression is everything. Many a young man 
has walked our cities for months, trying to get a situa¬ 
tion, who might have found one in three days had it 
not been for forbidding personal appearance or seedi¬ 
ness. No firm wants a seedy man about, and in this 
land of opportunity the cases are very rare where 
the poorest boy or man ever needs to appear so. 
The mother or wife is often much to blame for this 
slack and shiftless habit. It is very difficult for a 
shiftless, seedy man to retain self-respect, and no one 
wants to employ any one who has not enough self- 
respect, and respect enough for those about him, to 
present a neat and tidy appearance. The clothes 
may be threadbare and even patched; but if they 
are well brushed and a man has clean linen, is clean 
himself and has his shoes polished, his hair well 
brushed and his nails clean, he will command the 
respect of everybody. 

One of the tests of a fine manner in another is that 
we feel at ease or at home in the person’s presence. 
To see another in pain for himself pains us also. In 
the presence of the perfect mannered the tongue is 


CONDUCT AS A FINE AET. 


235 


untied; awkwardness, restraint, shyness, vanish. If 
w T e have any peculiarity or deformity or weakness, 
we are made to forget it. Sore spots, sensitiveness, 
ignorant spots, tender spots, are never touched. We 
are made unconscious of our defects and deformities. 

A lame man said he could classify his friends as to 
manners, by those who asked him how it happened, 
and those who never alluded to it, nor reminded him 
that they knew it. The true gentleman or lady 
never sees your deformities, and will avoid mention 
of your defects. 

Oli, the charm of a fine manner to dissolve fear, 
anxiety, self-consciousness, the sense of ignorance 
and inferiority! We admire the good mannered 
because they make us feel that we are men and 
women ourselves and are of some account in the 
world. The power of fine manners in making your 
way in the world is equal to a fortune. 

One of the ugliest men in England, Wilkes, said 
that in winning the graces of a lady there was not 
more than three da}^s’ difference between himself 
and the handsomest man in England. 

“ Beware of people who stand upon the letter of 
conventional etiquette, as men assume a virtue who 
have it not; ” so etiquette in society is often as¬ 
sumed as a disguise to cover a rotten heart and a foul 
life. On the other hand, as the roughest rind some¬ 
times covers the sweetest fruit, so a rough exterior 
sometimes covers a kindly, courteous heart. 

A man ought to carry himself in the world as an 
orange-tree would if it could walk up and down in 


236 


SUCCESS. 


the garden, swinging perfume from every little 
censer it holds aloft. 

Of all the ware and commodities in exchange and barter, 
wherein so mainly consists the civilization of our modern world, 
there is not one which is so carefully weighed, — so accurately 
measured, — so plumbed and gauged, — so doled and scraped, 
— so poured out in minima and balanced with scruples, — as 
that necessity of social commerce called “ an apology ! ” — 
Bulwer. 

Politeness is practical Christianity. — Dewey. 

There is an emanation from the heart in genuine hospitality 
which cannot be described, but it is immediately felt and puts 
the stranger at once at his ease. — Washington Irving. 

Whenever you see a man who is successful in society, try to 
discover what makes him pleasing, and if possible adopt his 
system. — Beaconsjield. 

In politeness, as in many other things connected with the 
formation of character, people in general begin outside when 
they should begin inside; instead of beginning with the heart, 
and trusting that to form the manners, they begin with man¬ 
ners, and trust the heart to chance influences. — Mrs. L. M. 
Child. 

Teach me to feel another’s woe, 

To hide the faults I see : 

That mercy I to others show, 

That mercy show to me. — Pope. 


CHAPTER IX. 


CHARACTER-BUILDING. 


When wealth is lost, nothing is lost; 

When health is lost, something is lost • 

When character is lost, all is lost. 

— Motto over the walls of a school in Germany. 
The purest treasure mortal times afford 
Is — spotless Reputation: that away, 

Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. 

— Shakespeare. 

Long galleries of ancestors 
Challenge no wonder or esteem from me. 

Virtue alone is true nobility. — Dry den. 

Life is constantly weighing us in very sensitive scales, and telling 
every one of us precisely what his real weight is to the last grain of 
dust. — Lowell. 

Commanding worth and personal power must sit crowned in all 
companies. — Emerson. 

There are many persons of whom it may be said that they have no 
other possession in the world but their character, and yet they stand as 
firmly upon it as any crowned king. — Smiles. 

The man forget not, though in rags he lies, 

And know the mortal through a crown’s disguise. 

— Akenside. 

What tho’ on homely fare we dine, 

Wear hoddin gray, and a’ that ? 

Gie fools their silks and knaves their wine, 

A man’s a man for a’ that. — Burns. 

Happen what there can, I will be just; 

My fortune may forsake me, not my virtue. 

— Ben Jonson. 

Character is not cut in marble; it is not something solid and unalter¬ 
able. It is something living and changing, and may become diseased 
as our bodies do. — George Eliot. 


“ So this is our new cabin-boy,” soliloquized Lieu¬ 
tenant -, as he caught sight of a dark-eyed, hand¬ 

some youth, leaning against the railing and gazing 
with a far-away look at the foamy waves that closed, 


237 



238 


SUCCESS. 


with rushing sweep, white and bubbling in the wake 
of the swiftly moving vessel. “Well, he looks like 
an interesting subject. I’m curious to know more 
about him.” 

Soon afterwards rough shouts and laughter at¬ 
tracted the lieutenant to the forward deck, where 
he found a group of sailors trying their utmost to 
persuade the boy to share their grog. 

“ Laugh on,” Allen was just replying; “ but I’ll 
never taste a drop. You ought to be ashamed to 
drink yourselves, much more to offer it to another.” 

A second shout of laughter greeted this reply, and 
a sailor, emboldened by the approach of the captain, 
whom all knew to be a great drinker, said: 

“Now, my hearty, get ready to keel over on 
your beam ends when you’ve swallowed this.” 

He was about to pour the liquor down Allen’s 
throat, when, quick as a flash, the latter seized the 
bottle and flung it far overboard. At the instant, 
Captain Harden, his face scarlet with rage, grasped 
the boy’s arm and shouted: “ Hoist this fellow aloft 
into the main topsail. I’ll teach him better than to 
waste my property ! ” 

“ I’ll go myself, captain,” said Allen, quietly waving 
the sailors back, “ and I hope you will pardon me; I 
meant no offence.” 

“Faster!” cried the captain, as he saw with what 
care the boy was measuring his steps, for it was ex¬ 
tremely dangerous for one unused to the sea to climb 
that height. Faster Allen tried to go, but his foot 
slipped, and he dangled by his arms in mid air. A 


CHARACTER-BUILDING. 


239 


coarse laugh from the captain greeted this mishap 
and a jeer from the sailors, but with a strong effort 
Allen caught hold of the rigging again, and was soon 
in the watch-basket. 

“ Now, stay there, you young scamp, and get some 
of the spirit frozen out of you,” muttered the captain, 
as he went below. But at nightfall the lieutenant 
ventured to say to the captain, who had been drink¬ 
ing freely all the afternoon : “ Pardon my intrusion, 
Captain Harden, but I’m afraid our cabin-boy will be 
sick if he is compelled to stay up there much longer.” 

“ Sick! bah! not a bit of it; he’s got too much 
grit in him to yield to such nonsense; no one on 
board my ship ever gets sick; all know better than 
to play that game on me. But I’ll go and see what 
he is doing, anyhow. 

“ Ho, my lad ! ” he shouted through his trumpet. 

“ Ay, ay, sir,” was the faint but prompt response, 
as an ea^er face looked down for release. 

O 

“ How do you like your new berth ? ” was the mock¬ 
ing question. 

“ Better than grog or whiskey, sir.” 

“If I allow you to come down, will you drink 
this?” asked the captain, holding up a sparkling 
glass of wine. 

“ I have forsworn all intoxicating drinks, sir, and 
I will not break my pledge, even at the risk of my 
life.” 

“There, that settles it,” said the captain to the 
lieutenant; “ he’s got to stay up there to-night; he’ll 
be toned down by morning.” 


240 


SUCCESS. 


But at dawn there was no response to the captain’s 
“ Ho, my lad! ” When two sailors brought the boy’s 
limp form into his presence, his voice softened, as he 
said, “ Here, my lad, drink this glass of warm wine 
and eat the soaked biscuit, and I will trouble you 
no more.” 

“ Captain Harden,” said Allen, in a hoarse whisper, 
“ will you allow me to tell you a little of my 
history ? ” 

“ Go on,” said the captain; “ but do not think it 
will change my mind; you have to drink this just to 
show you how I bend stiff necks on board my ship.” 

“Two weeks before I came on board this ship I 
stood beside my mother’s coffin. I heard the dull 
thud of falling earth as the sexton filled the grave 
which held her remains. I saw the people leave the 
spot: I was alone ; yes, alone, for she who loved and 
cared for me was gone. I knelt for a moment upon 
the fresh turf; and, while the hot tears rolled 
down my cheeks, I vowed never to taste the liquor 
that had broken my mother’s, heart and ruined my 
father’s life. Two days later, I stretched my hand 
through the prison bars, behind which my father 
was confined. I told him of my intention to go to 
sea. Do with me what you will, captain; let me 
freeze to death in the maintop; throw me into the 
sea, anything, but do not, for my dead mother’s sake, 
force me to drink that poison that has ruined my 
father and killed my mother. Do not let it ruin a 
mother’s only son ! ” 

The captain stepped forward; and, laying his 


CHARACTER-BUILDING. 


241 


hand, which trembled a little, upon the head of the 
sobbing lad, said to the crew who had gathered 
round : “ For our mothers’ sake, let us respect Allen 
Bancroft’s pledge. And never,” he continued, glan¬ 
cing ominously at the sailors, “ never let me catch 
any of you ill-treating him.” lie then hastily with¬ 
drew, and the sailors went forward. 

“Lieutenant-,”exclaimed the bewildered Allen, 

“ what does this mean ? Is it possible that — that—?” 

“ That you are free,” replied the lieutenant, “ and 
that no one will trouble you again.” 

“ Lieutenant,” said the boy, “ if I was not so sick 
and cold just now, I think I’d just toss my hat and 
give three cheers for Captain Harden.” 

He served on the vessel three years, and became a 
favorite with all. In his presence even the rudest 
sailor would forbear to utter coarse jests, and there 
was a noticeable decrease in the profanity on board. 
When he left, as the lieutenant tells the story, Cap¬ 
tain Harden presented Allen with a handsome gold 
watch as a memento of his night in the maintop. 

How well this illustrates Lamartine’s saying, that 
there is only one stimulant that never fails and yet^ 
never intoxicates, — duty. Duty puts a blue sky over 
every man, — up in his heart, maybe, — into which 
the skylark, happiness, always goes singing. 

Duty is the end and aim of the highest life. The 
truest pleasure of all is that derived from the con¬ 
sciousness of its fulfillment. There is something in 
every one which urges him to do his duty. 

“ Some men call it conscience, but I prefer to call 



242 


SUCCESS. 


it the voice of God in the soul of man. If you listen 
and obey it, then it will speak clearer and clearer, 
and always guide you aright; but if you turn a deaf 
ear, or disobey, then it will fade out little by little, 
and leave you in the dark without a friend. Your 
life depends on heeding that little voice.” 

“Never forget,” says Geikie, “that wrong-doing 
cannot repay in the end. It may promise pleasure 
or profit, but it is the old story of Eve’s apple over 
again in every case. Shame, danger, self-reproach 
and loss follow it, as Hell follows Death in the 
Apocalypse. Delilah’s smiles were a poor remem¬ 
brance to blind Samson. The fish thinks little of 
the bait when it feels the hook. Let nothing tempt 
you to a false step, whatever necessity or pretext 
may urge. Young men are often led astray by the 
fine names given to misconduct. It is ‘good fellow¬ 
ship,’ or ‘spirit,’ or ‘seeing the world,’ or ‘ wild oats,’ 
or the like ; but, after all, death is death, whatever 
name you give it.” 

It is right action that brings self-satisfaction and 
the approval of others. 

“ But, Regulus, what will become of you ? ” asked 
the Roman senators, when their great general, who 
had advised war in the hearing of the Carthaginian 
envoys, announced his intention to return to his cap- 
tors. “ Do not think of me,” said the stern soldier; 
“I gave my word to return, if I failed to make peace. 
I will keep it. Do what is best, — refuse to make 
peace.” Is there anything more sublime in Chris¬ 
tian history than this choice of the pagan leader, pre- 


CH ARACTER-BUILDING. 


243 


ferring death to dishonor, choosing inevitable torture, 
rather than break his word to an enemy ? 

“ The real value of a country must be weighed in 
scales more delicate than the balance of trade,” says 
Lowell. “ The gardens of Sicily are empty now, but 
the bees from all climates still fetch honey from the 
tiny garden-plot of Theocritus. On a map of the 
world you may cover Judaea with your thumb; 
Athens with a finger-tip ; and neither of them figures 
in the Prices Current, but they still lord it in the 
thought and action of every civilized man. The 
measure of a nation’s true success is the amount it 
has contributed to the thought, the moral energy, 
the intellectual happiness, the spiritual hope and con¬ 
solation of mankind.” 

“ My house knows the road of exile, but not of dis¬ 
honor,” said Victor Emanuel to Marshal Radetzky, 
who endeavored to bribe him, during the early years 
of his reign, to desist from the attempt to liberate 
his country. 

“ I have driven a greater man than you over this 
very ground,” said a peasant to the Austrian Em¬ 
peror, as he guided his horses along a precipitous 
road in Hungary before the day of railroads. “ Who 
was he?” asked the astonished Emperor. “Why, it 
was His Majesty, Louis Kossuth,” replied the driver. 
At that moment Kossuth was an exile, his attempt 
to free his native Poland had failed, and he was a 
poor man ; but the influence of his character was 
still felt throughout Hungary. 

Sum it up then as we will, character is the great 


244 


SUCCESS. 


desideratum of human life. This truth, sublime in 
its simplicity and powerful in its beauty, is the high¬ 
est lesson of religion, — the first that youth should 
learn, and the last that age should forget. 

“ Has any one been to see you ? ” asked the vicar of 
St. Marti n’s-in-the-Fields, England, of a poor crossing- 
sweeper lying ill. 

“Yes, Mr. Gladstone.” 

“Which Mr. Gladstone?” asked the vicar. 

“ Mr. Gladstone ,” repeated the sick man. 

“But how came he to visit you?” inquired the 
vicar in surprise, for he could not understand why 
the Chancellor of the Exchequer, although then 
living in the parish, should call upon a sick crossing- 
tender. 

“ Well,” answered the crossing-sweeper, “he always 
had a nice word for me when he passed my crossing, 
and when I was not there he missed me. He asked 
my mate, who has taken my place, where I was, and 
when he heard that I was ill, he asked for my address, 
arid put it down on paper. So he called to see me.” 

“ And what did he do ? ” asked the vicar. 

“Why, he read to me from the Bible and prayed,” 
was the reply. 

Such deeds indicate the character of England’s 
“ Grand Old Man,” a character whose weight was 
felt in balancing the affairs of nations. 

Perhaps the most striking phrase uttered by a 
modern king was spoken by King Humbert a few 
years ago, when the cholera was raging in Naples. 
He had been invited by the municipality of Genoa 



WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE. 

“Character must stand behind and back up everything—the sermon, the 
poem, the picture, the play. None of them is worth a straw without it.” 

“ Character is the diamond that scratches every other stone.” 



















































































































































































































































CHARACTER-BUILDING. 


245 


to a banquet, but he declined in these words: “ Men 
are feasting at Genoa; men are dying at Naples, — 
I go to Naples .’ 5 

In the crypt of the old cathedral at Glasgow, 
facing the statue of John Knox, is an illuminated 
window with the picture of the Good Samaritan, 
and under it the simple words, in broad Scotch, “ Let 
the deed shaw.” 

What a man does is the real test of what a man is. 

Noble deeds always enrich, but millions may im¬ 
poverish. Character is perpetual wealth; by the side 
of its poor possessor the millionaire who has it not 
seems a pauper. Compared with it what are houses 
and lands, stocks and bonds ? 

Kousseau one day, when talking on this subject, 
said, u We were always without a sou, but we never 
spoke of money, for money counted for nothing in 
our ambition.” 

Sweeter than the perfume of roses is a reputation 
for a kind, charitable, unselfish nature; a ready dis¬ 
position to do for others any good turn in your 
power. 

A London clergyman, discovering that he had 
small-pox, resolutely refused to go home, would not 
even enter a cab which was brought to take him to 
the hospital, but hailing a hearse passing by, crept 
into that, and was thus carried safely to the hospital 
door. 

If a man’s religion is of the right sort, it wiL 
sharpen his faculties, quicken his energies, heighten 
his self-respect, give solidity to his character, and 


246 


SUCCESS. 


enhance both his usefulness and his prospects of 
success. 

Society needs more heart. It needs to have more 
of the spirit of that little girl whom Dr. Guthrie 
met one morning in the Highlands. She was carry¬ 
ing in her arms a little boy nearly as large as herself; 
and, in the kindliness of his heart, the good doctor 
said : “ Let me help you, my lass. The load is too 
heavy for your little arms.” “ Oh, no,” she answered 
with a smile; “ he r s my brother, sir.” She thought it 
was impossible for a brother to be a burden. 

An absolute surrender, consecration and devotion 
of self to all that is better and purer and truer, is 
the secret of character-building. By a consuming 
zeal for all that is noble and excellent our love of 
self becomes softened and clarified. By constant 
contemplation of excellence, we clear our selfhood 
of all dross and impurities. 

Stephen A. Douglas said that, when with Lincoln, 
he felt that he was in the presence of a very great 
man, and that there was safety in the atmosphere. 
Such a statement, coming from a powerful political 
opponent, is a remarkable tribute. 

In a speech on the funeral of the Duke of Welling¬ 
ton, in the House of Commons, November 15, 1852, 
Disraeli said, “The Duke of Wellington has left to 
this country a great legacy, greater even than his 
fame, — he has left to us the contemplation of his 
character.” 

Truthfulness is the most important virtue in char¬ 
acter. It is in character something like the main- 


CHARACTER-BUILDING. 


247 


spring in a watch. You know the mainspring of a 
watch is what is wound up to keep the watch going. 
But the mainspring in our character should never 
run down. It should be a living mainspring, and 
not a dead one. 

A band of thieves will want an honest treasurer, 
and men who are themselves full of trickery will 
appreciate a sturdy, honest character. 

The straightest, surest path to respect and confi¬ 
dence and success is through truth, and the straight¬ 
est, shortest path to failure is through falsehood. 

“ One single positive weighs more 
Than negatives a hundred score.” 

Settle it with yourself that, come what will, you 
will never lie. If telling the truth brings punish¬ 
ment, bear it like a man, — that is the way to be¬ 
come a man. If telling the truth turns you out of 
school, or out of a situation, or out of doors, tell it 
and take the consequences. 

“Did you ever watch a sculptor slowly fashioning 
a human countenance ? ” asks a modern teacher. “ It 
is not molded at once. It is not struck out at a 
single blow. It is painfully and laboriously wrought. 
It is a work of time; but at last the full likeness 
comes out and stands fixed and unchanging in the 
solid marble. So does a man carve out his own 
moral likeness. Every day he adds something to 
the work.” 

Life itself is a great deal finer art, — finer, more 
difficult than painting, music, architecture, naviga- 


248 


SUCCESS. 


tion, or any other branch of life’s work. We need 
to learn how to live. 

“ If you would know the power of character,” says 
Emerson, “ see how much you would impoverish the 
world if you could take clean out of history the lives 
of Milton, Shakespeare, and Plato, — these three, — 
and cause them not to be.” 

“The blossom cannot tell what becomes of its 
odor,” says Beecher; “ and no man can tell what 
becomes of his influence and example that roll away 
from him and go beyond his ken in their perilous 
mission.” 

Moses Stuart was pastor in New Haven when he 
was nominated for a professorship at Andover Semi¬ 
nary. Dr. Spring visited New Haven to make in¬ 
quiries concerning the candidate. Among others he 
interrogated President Dwight. “ He is the very man 
for the place,” said President Dwight; “ but we can¬ 
not spare him.” “ Sir,” responded Dr. Spring, “ we 
do not want a man that can be spared.” 

Strength of character consists of two things, — 
power of will and power of self-restraint. It re¬ 
quires two things, therefore, for its existence,— 
strong feelings and strong command over them. 

Over the triple doorways of the Cathedral of 
Milan there are three inscriptions spanning the 
arches. Over one is carved a wreath of roses with 
the legend, “ All that which pleases is but for a mo¬ 
ment.” Over another is sculptured a cross accom¬ 
panied by the words, “ All that which troubles is but 
for a moment.” But on the great central entrance 


CHARACTER-BUILDING. 


249 


to the main aisle is the inscription, “That only is 
important which is eternal.” 

Being one day in the company of some friends, 
Dr. Watts overheard a stranger say, “What, is that 
the great Dr. Watts?” The Doctor, who was of 
low stature, turning to the gentleman who made the 
exclamation, good-humoredly repeated the following 
verse from one of his lyric poems: 

“Were I so tall to reach the pole, 

Or mete the ocean with my span, 

I must be measured by my soul; 

The mind’s the standard of the man.” 

Who can estimate the power of Savonarola’s char¬ 
acter and preaching upon Italy? So magical was 
his sway that people at a distance would rise in the 
middle of the night that they might not be late 
when he was to speak. Michael Angelo’s career was 
powerfully affected by the strong characters of Savon¬ 
arola and Dante. 

“ If we work upon marble, it will perish,” said 
Webster; “ if upon brass, time will efface it; if we rear 
temples, they will crumble into dust; but if we work 
upon our immortal minds, — if we imbue them with 
principles, with the just fear of God and love of our 
fellow-men, — we engrave on those tablets something 
which will brighten through all eternity.” 

What! build factories beside the water-wheels, un¬ 
chain the imprisoned spirits of steam to weave “ a 
garment for the body, and let the soul remain un¬ 
adorned and naked! What! send out your vessels to 


250 


SUCCESS. 


the farthest ocean, and make battle with the mon¬ 
sters of the deep in order to obtain means to light 
your dwellings and workshops, and prolong the 
hours of labor for the meat that perisheth, and per¬ 
mit that vital spark which God has kindled, which 
he has intrusted to our care, to be fanned into a 
bright and heavenly flame, — permit it, I say, to 
languish and go out! 

Without a moral backbone, you may as well be a 
jellyfish for any real solid good you will do. 

“ If I buy you, will you be honest ? ” asked a kind- 
hearted man at a southern slave-market, before the 
Civil War, addressing an active colored boy whose 
condition he pitied. 

“ I will be honest whether you buy me or not,” 
replied the boy, with a look that baffled description. 

Who can estimate the power of a well-lived life. 
Character is power. Hang this motto in every school 
in the land , in every home , in every youth's room. 
Mothers , engrave it on every child's heart. 

Happiness is not the end of life : character is. This world 
is not a platform where you will hear Thalberg-piano-playing. 
It is a piano manufactory, where are dust and shavings and 
boards and saws and files and rasps and sand-papers. The 
perfect instrument and the music will be hereafter. — Beecher. 

The character itself should be to the individual a paramount 
end, simply because the existence of this ideal nobleness of 
character, or of a near approach to it, in any abundance, would 
go further than all tilings else toward making human life 
happy, both in the comparatively humble sense of pleasure 
and freedom from pain, and in the higher meaning of render¬ 
ing life not what it now is, almost universally puerile and in- 


CHARACTER-BUILDING. 


251 


significant, but such as human beings with highly developed 
faculties can care to have. — J. S. Mill. 

Character is like stock in trade,—the more of it a man pos¬ 
sesses the greater his faculties for making additions to it. 
Character is power, — is influence; it makes friends, creates 
funds, draws patronage and support, and ppens a sure and easy 
way to wealth, honor, and happiness. — J. Halves. 

Grit is the grain of character. It may generally be described 
as heroism materialized,—spirit and will thrust into the heart, 
brain, and backbone, so as to form part of the physical sub¬ 
stance of man. — Whipple. 


CHAPTER X. 


MEDICINE FOR THE MIND. 

A blessing on the printer’s art. — Mrs. Hale. 

Books are men of higher stature, 

The only men who speak aloud for future times to hear. — Barrett. 

Now, my young friends to whom I am addressing myself, with refer¬ 
ence to this habit of reading, I make bold to tell you that it is your 
pass to the greatest, the purest, aud the most perfect pleasure that God 
has prepared for his creatures. — Anthony Trollope. 

Books are yours, 

Within whose silent chambers treasure lies 
Preserved from age to age; more precious far 
Than that accumulated store of gold 
And orient gems, which, for a day of need, 

The sultan hides deep in ancestral tombs. 

These hoards of truth you can unlock at will. 

— Wordsworth. 

Half the gossip of society would perish, if the books that are truly 
worth reading were but read. — Dawson. 

In the highest civilization the book is still the highest delight.— 
Emerson. 

In these times we fight for ideas, and newspapers are our fortresses. 
— Heinrich Heine. 

Let me make the newspapers, and I care not what is preached in 
the pulpit or what is enacted in Congress. — Wendell Phillips. 

Most wondrous Book! bright candle of the Lord! 

Star of Eternity! The only star 
By which the bark of man could navigate 
The sea of life, and gain the coast of bliss 
Securely. — Pollok. 

If I might control the literature of the household, I would guarantee 
the well-being of the Church aud the State. — Bacon. 


“Is this the place where they fight Indians?” 
asked a stout woman armed with an umbrella and 
leading a small urchin, as she entered the office of a 
New York boys’ story paper. “Is this the locality 
where the brave boy charges up the canon and 

252 


MEDICINE FOR THE MIND. 


253 


speeds a bullet to the heart of the dusky redskin ? ” 
And she jerked the boy around by the ear and 
brought her umbrella down on the desk. 

“We — we publish stories for boys,” stammered 
the young man at the desk. 

“ I want to know if these are the premises on 
which the daring lad springs upon his fiery mustang, 
and, darting through the circle of thunderstruck 
savages, cuts the captive’s cords and bears him away 
before the wondering Indians have recovered from 
their astonishment? That’s the information I’m 
after. I want to know if that sort of thing is per¬ 
petrated here?” and she brandished her umbrella 
above the clerk’s head. 

“I — I don’t remember those specific acts,” pro¬ 
tested the young man. 

“ I want to know if this is the precinct where the 
adventurous boy jumps on the back of a buffalo, and 
with unerring aim picks off one of the bloodthirsty 
pursuers, who bite the dust at every crack of the faith¬ 
ful rifle. I’m looking for the place where that sort of 
thing happens! ” and this time she gave the unlucky 
young man a tremendous whack across the shoulders. 

“I — I — I really th — think — ” stuttered the vic¬ 
tim, as he tried to dodge behind the desk. 

“I’m in search of the shop in which the boy road- 
agent holds the quivering stage-driver powerless with 
his glittering eye, while he robs the male passengers 
with an adroitness born of long and tried experience, 
and kisses the hands of the lady passengers, with a 
gallantry of bearing that bespeaks noble birth and a 


254 


SUCCESS. 


chivalrous nature! ” shrieked the woman, pursuing 
the young man into a corner. “ I’m hunting for the 
apartment in which that business is transacted ! ” and 
down came the umbrella like a trip-hammer on the 
young man’s head. 

“Upon my soul, madam,” gasped the terrified 
clerk, “ I assure you that — that — ” 

“ I want you to indicate the jars in which you keep 
the boy scouts of the Sierras! Show me the bins full 
of boy detectives of the prairie ! Point out to me the 
barrels full of boy pirates of the Spanish Main ! ” 
and she punctuated each demand with a whack of the 
umbrella on the young man’s skull until he sprang 
over the desk and fled in terror. 

“ I’ll teach ’em! ” panted the victorious virago, as 
she again grasped her son’s ear and waltzed him 
out of the office ; “ I’ll teach ’em to make it good or 
skip. Want to fight Indians any more? Want to 
stand proudly upon the pinnacle of the mountain and 
scatter the plain beneath with the bleeding bodies of 
uncounted slain ? Want to say ‘ hist! ’ in a tone that 
brooks no contradiction ? Propose to spring upon 
the taffrail, and with a ringing word of command 
send a broadside into the richly laden galley, and 
then mercifully spare the beautiful maiden in the 
cabin, that she may become your blushing bride? 
Hey? Going to do it any more?” 

With every question she encouraged the boy along 
by a vigorous whack of the umbrella, until his bones 
were sore, and he protested with tears in his eyes 
that he cared nothing for the glories enumerated. 


MEDICINE FOR THE MIND. 


255 


“ Then come along,” said his mother, changing her 
hold from his ear to his collar. “ Let me catch you 
around with any more ramrods and carving knives, and 
you’ll think the leaping, curling, resistless prairie fire 
has swept with a ferocious roar of triumph across the 
trembling plains and lodged under your jacket to stay!” 

At this point she turned a corner and the thread 
of her remarks was lost; but occasionally, as her 
voice rose to its highest pitch, the listeners could 
catch such fragments as, “Want to hunt for Kidd’s 
money ? ” — “ I’ll act the howling blizzard! ” — “ Ache 
to go for a soger?”— “ You’ll think an earthquake is 
tearing around loose! ” Most likely the cure of the 
boy was permanent, for his mother did not repeat 
her visit. But what a world of good she would 
accomplish by giving just such a dose to about one 
boy out of every five in America! 

“ By a singular coincidence the brief editorial in 
our issue of January 28, on ‘ What Some Boys 
Read,’ received a striking corroboration on the very 
day the article went to our readers,” wrote a noted 
editor. “ At two o’clock in the morning of the 28th, 
three runaway boys, aged eleven, twelve, and thir¬ 
teen, were arrested in the streets of New York, 
armed with revolvers and a clasp-knife, and carrying 
for stores a can of oysters, smoking and chewing 
tobacco, fishing lines and hooks, a song-book, and 
one or two murderous Indian tales. When ques¬ 
tioned, it came out that they had stolen twelve 
dollars, and, with the remaining eight, were making 
their way to Colorado and the mountain territories 


256 


SUCCESS. 


beyond, with bloody intent to exterminate the In¬ 
dians. But what of the boys ? •— their reading ? — the 
molding influences thus early mastering them? — 
their probable future ? And what, by way of preven¬ 
tion or remedy, is to be done with men who so abuse 
the press, to the perversion and poisoning of such 
unripe minds? Must this vile corrupting process go 
on forever ? ” 

The arrest of four boys in Milwaukee, upon numer¬ 
ous charges of incendiarism, revealed the fact that 
they had a “pirates’ den,” kept on hand a large 
supply of cigarettes, chewing-tobacco, etc., and swore 
in members with a “ cast-iron oath.” The boys were 
mostly members of respectable families, but were 
instructed in such depravity by vicious literature. 
One of the boys of most respectable parentage de¬ 
clared he “ wanted to look tough ”; and, when ar¬ 
rested, he had on his person a knife, a cowboy story, 
a plug of tobacco, and four cigars. 

R. A. Willmott says that ten minutes with a French 
novel or a German rationalist have sent a reader away 
with a fever for life. 

Who can estimate the influence of one bad book? 
Our minds eat books as our bodies take in food. 
Good food makes good blood, bad food diseased 
blood ; a bad book can no more make good character 
than diseased food can build up healthy tissue. 

“Parents fear to have their children choose bad 
companions,” says ZiorCs Herald; “but bad books 
are worse. You cannot cure the evil by simply 
denouncing the books or punishing the boy. You 


MEDICINE FOR THE MIND. 


257 


must create a better taste by reading to him, and 
with him, and with great painstaking awaken an 
appetite for wholesome literature; then all the flashy 
papers and books resting on street news-stands will 
be no temptation to him.” 

A man with an undeveloped capacity accidentally 
stumbles upon a book that opens and develops his 
thoughts ; from that moment he lives in a new world, 
and all things in the world become pregnant with 
interest. Many a youth has been started on a noble 
career by reading a single good book. 

Can anything be more inspiring than contact with 
a master mind ? Let one read a few pages of Emer¬ 
son ; and, fascinating as the author seems, and strong 
as the temptation is to go on with one’s reading, does 
he not soon find rising up within him, stronger, if pos¬ 
sible, than all else, the impulse to go out at once and 
do something worthy of himself ere the night shuts in? 

“What do your philosophic books amount to?” 
asked an aristocratic fop in a London assembly; 
“they contain nothing but theories and opinions.” 

“ In the last century,” replied Carlyle, with a look 
of grim scorn, “there lived a man in France (Rous¬ 
seau,) who wrote a book (“Emile,”) that contained 
nothing but theories and opinions, which the nobility 
of that day declared to be all stuff and nonsense; 
but it is an incident of history that their skins went 
to the binding of the second edition of that book! ” 

Gladstone says that his life has been deeply influ¬ 
enced by reading Aristotle, St. Augustine, Dante, 
and Bishop Butler. 


258 


SUCCESS. 


See yQung Lincoln in a log-cabin in the wilderness, 
devouring by the light of the fireplace, as though he 
would never see them again, the fascinating life of 
Washington, and other precious books which he had 
walked many miles in the wilderness to borrow, for 
he could not afford to own even one. 

There were no libraries in that wilderness, and 
very few cabins contained any books except the 
Bible. See this long, lank boy thirsting for know¬ 
ledge, his soul fired by the few books he had bor¬ 
rowed ; walking to Springfield and back to return 
and borrow more books; sitting up nights and rising 
early mornings to devour the precious volumes. 
How could he do anything or become anybody in 
the world in the midst of such repelling surround¬ 
ings? The log-cabin had neither floor nor windows, 
and he slept in the loft on a sack filled with corn 
husks. But this humble home seemed a paradise 
when he read the “ Life of Washington.” This, and 
all the other books which he so eagerly read, kindled 
his spark of purpose into a flame which burned 
brighter and brighter until his death. 

Nothing in Dickens’ works is more touching than 
the picture of his own child-life, which he gives in 
“David Copperfield.” He shows us how easily he 
might have gone wrong had it not been for one great 
power and influence that cast a spell over him, — the 
love of books. In his dismal and solitary garret he 
was not alone, for he had the cheerful companion¬ 
ship of his books, and they kept him pure in thought, 
shrewd in intellect, and right in life, even in the 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 

“ Perhaps no other thing has such power to lift the poor out of his poverty, 
the wretched out of his misery, to make the burden-bearer forget his burden, the 
sick his suffering, the sorrower his grief, the downtrodden his degradation, as 
books.” 




















































MEDICINE FOR THE MIND. 


259 


midst of a crowded city. The Apostle Paul never 
gave Timothy better advice than when he urged the 
young man to “ give heed to reading.” 

The poorest boy can make every spare hour rich 
in opportunities for an education through books. 
What art opportunity books afford us to save all the 
odd bits of time which would otherwise be lost. 
How they enable us to store up in the memory 
precious moments which would otherwise be swept 
into the waste of life. Think of the treasures which 
can thus be amassed in a lifetime: scarcely a boy or 
girl in America but can get that which is even better 
than a college education. 

If Frederick Douglass, a slave, could learn to read 
from scraps of paper, posters on barns, and patent 
medicine almanacs on the plantation, and this by 
stealth ; as, if he were detected, he would be punished, 
what can not the poorest boy or girl of to-day do \ 

Richardson tells us that, before the art of printing 
was known, books were so scarce that ambassadors 
were sent from France to Rome to beg a copy of 
“Cicero de Oratore ” or of Quintilian’s “Institutes,” 
etc., because a complete copy of such works was not 
to be found in all France. Albert, Abbot of Gem- 
blours, with incredible labor and expense, collected a 
library of one hundred and fifty volumes, including 
everything extant; and this was considered a won¬ 
der indeed. In 1494, the library of the Bishop of 
Winchester contained parts of seventeen books on 
different subjects; and, on his borrowing a Bible 
from the convent of St. Swithin, he had to give a 


260 


SUCCESS. 


heavy bond, drawn up with great solemnity, that he 
would return it uninjured. If any one gave a book 
to a convent or a monastery, it conferred everlasting 
salvation upon him, and he offered it upon the altar 
of God. The Convent of Rochester every year pro¬ 
nounced an irrevocable sentence of damnation on him 
who would dare steal or conceal a Latin translation 
of Aristotle, or even obliterate a title. When a book 
was purchased, it was an affair of such consequence 
that persons of distinction were called together as 
witnesses. Previous to the year 1300 the library of 
Oxford, England, consisted of only a few tracts, 
which were carefully locked up in a small chest, or 
else chained, lest they should be stolen, and at the 
commencement of the fourteenth century the Royal 
Library of France contained only four classics with 
a few devotional books. So great was the privilege 
of owning a book, that one of their works on natural 
history contained a picture representing the Deity 
as resting on the Sabbath, with a book in His hand, 
in the act of reading. It was probably no better in 
earlier times. Knowledge was scattered to the four 
winds, and truth was hidden in a well. Lycurgus 
and Pythagoras were obliged to travel into Egypt, 
Persia, and India, in order to understand the doctrine 
of the metempsychosis. Solon and Plato had to go 
to Egypt for what they knew. Herodotus and 
Strabo were obliged to travel to collect their histories, 
and to construct their geography as they traveled. 
Few men pretended to own a library, and he was 
accounted truly favored who owned half a dozen 


MEDICINE FOR THE MIND. 


261 


volumes. And yet, with all this scarcity of books, 
there were in those days scholars who greatly sur¬ 
passed us in some respects. 

Just after the Revolution, France showed such a 
dearth of Bibles, that persons sent over for the pur¬ 
pose searched four days among the booksellers of 
Paris without finding a single copy. 

Get as many books as possible into your room or 
home. A mind changes in the presence of books, 
and a love of books comes from getting acquainted 
with them in the home and being close to them. 

Kent advises every young man to take a newspaper 
or two, and a magazine if he can possibly afford it. 

If all the little needless expenses are cut off, it will 
be found to cost no self-denial, no sacrifice whatever. 
If a young man wishes to “ keep up with the times,” 
and know all the important events that are transpir¬ 
ing daily throughout the world, he must take a good 
paper. He will miss opportunities which he cannot 
afford to miss. Newspapers are being introduced 
into public schools; and, instead of reading what hap¬ 
pened a thousand years ago, the pupils read what 
happened yesterday, received by telegraph from all 
principal points in the world. They are reading 
history page by page, and day by day, as the events 
transpire. A live newspaper is the best of histories. 

F. B. Sanborn says that the careful reader of a few 
good newspapers can learn more in a year than most 
scholars do in their great libraries. 

James Ellis tells us that newspapers are the world’s 
mirrors. 


262 


SUCCESS. 


Physiologists tell us that our bodies entirely change 
every few years. Our minds change, too, and take on 
very largely the character of the books we read and 
of our associates. Every book we read, like every 
companion we take into our hearts, leaves its auto¬ 
graph within; even the characters we communicate 
with in secret write their autographs upon our char¬ 
acters. These characters work themselves out upon 
the face ; they are photographed in our manners, and 
express themselves in our speech. 

Books are now so cheap that nearly every young 
man can, and should, form a little library of his own ; 
for no good and great works are read as they deserve 
to be unless we have them on our own shelves, and 
can turn to them whenever a leisure hour permits. 
Imagine a real lover of poetry sending to the circu¬ 
lating library for a Shakespeare or a Tennyson! 

Two men, while on a sea voyage, were one day con¬ 
versing as to what book they would choose if they 
should chance to be wrecked on some island and could 
have but one. One said he would choose Shakespeare. 
The other said, “ I would choose the Bible; there is 
no end to that book.” There is this strange and 
wonderful thing about it, that we never get to the 
end of it, and the reason must be that it tells of 
endless things. 

Buskin says, “ My mother forced me, by steady, 
daily toil, to learn long chapters of the Bible by 
heart; . . . and to that discipline — patient, accu¬ 
rate, and resolute — I owe not only a knowledge of 
the book, which I find occasionally serviceable, but 


MEDICINE FOE THE MIND. 


263 


much of my general power of taking pains and the 
best part of my taste in literature.” 

Perhaps the best uninspired eulogy on the Bible is 
from the pen of that masterly scholar, Sir William 
Jones. It was written on a blank page of his Bible, 
and also inserted in his eighth discourse before the 
Society for Asiatic Research. “ The Scriptures con¬ 
tain, independently of a divine origin, more true 
sublimity, more exquisite beauty, purer morality, 
more important history, and finer strains both of 
poetry and eloquence than could be collected, within 
the same compass, from all other books that were 
ever composed in any age, or in any idiom. The 
two parts of which the Scriptures consist are con¬ 
nected by a chain of compositions which bear no 
resemblance, in form or style, to any that can be pro¬ 
duced from the stores of Grecian, Indian, Persian, or 
even Arabian learning. The antiquity of those com¬ 
positions no man doubts; and the unstrained appli¬ 
cation of them to events long subsequent to their 
publication is a solid ground of belief that they were 
genuine predictions, and consequently inspired.” 

The Mohammedans have mosques where the Koran 
is all read daily; thirty relays of priests take it up in 
succession, and get through the whole each day. 
There, for twelve hundred years, has the voice of 
this book, at all moments, kept sounding in the ears 
and hearts of many men. We hear of Mohammedan 
doctors that have read it seventy thousand times. 

“Few things weaken the mind of the student more 
than light, miscellaneous reading. You find it the 


264 


SUCCESS. 


fashion to have read a world of reviews, magazines, 
and papers. They are not written with the expecta¬ 
tion of being remembered. And after you have 
spent hours over them, it is very doubtful whether 
you have done anything more than crowd the mind 
with vague images and impressions, which decidedly 
weaken the memory. Every time you crowd into 
the memory what you do not expect it to retain, you 
weaken its powers, and you lose your authority to 
command its services. The fewer of such things the 
student reads, the better. 

u In reading, you should always have your pen 
by you, not merely to make a minute in your index, 
but to save the thoughts which are started in your 
own mind. Did you never notice that, while read- 
ing, your own mind is so put into operation that it 
strikes out new and bold trains of thinking, — trains 
that are worth preserving, and such as will be 
scattered to the winds if not written down at the 
moment of their creation ? A wise man will be as 
careful to save that property which he himself makes, 
as that which he inherits. The student should be, 
for it will be of vastly more value to him.” 

Gibbon, after having read a book, was accustomed 
to take a solitary walk and think over how much the 
author had added to his knowledge. 

“ The books which help you most are those which 
make you think the most,” says Theodore Parker. 
“The hardest way of learning is by easy reading; 
but a great book that comes from a great thinker, — 
it is a ship of thought, deep-freighted with thought 
and beauty.” 


MEDICINE FOR THE MIND. 


265 


“Always have a good book at hand,” says Tryon 
Edwards, “ in the parlor, on the table, for the family, 
— a book of condensed thoughts and sound maxims. 
It will impress on your mind a thousand valuable sug¬ 
gestions, and teach your children a thousand lessons 
of truth and duty. Such a book is a casket of jewels 
for your household.” 

Macaulay, in affliction, wrote: “ That I have not 
utterly sunk under this blow I owe chiefly to litera¬ 
ture. What a blessing it is to love books as I love 
them, — to be able to converse with the dead, and to 
live amidst the unreal! ” 

Without books, God is silent, justice dormant, natural science 
at a stand, philosophy lame, letters dumb, and all things involved 
in Cimmerian darkness. — Bartholin. 

A good book, whether a novel or not, is one that leaves you 
further on than when you took it up. If, when you drop it, it 
drops you down in the same old spot, with no finer outlook, no 
clearer vision, no stimulated desires for that which is better and 
higher, it is in no sense a good book. — Anna Warner. 

Let every man, if possible, gather some good books under his 
roof, and obtain access for himself and his family to some social 
library. Almost any luxury should be sacrificed to this. — 
Channing. 

Mark, there! We get no good 
By being ungenerous, even to a book, 

And calculating profits — so much help 
By so much reading. It is rather when 
We gloriously forget ourselves, and plunge 
Soul-forward, headlong, into a book’s profound, 
Impassioned for its beauty and salt of truth — 

’Tis then we get the right good from a book. 

— Mrs. Browning. 


CHAPTER XI. 


“this one THING I DO.” 


Let thine eyes look right on, and let thine eyelids look straight 
before thee. Turn not to the right hand nor to the left. — Proverbs. 

I am constant as the northern star, 

Of whose true-fix’d and resting quality 

There is no fellow in the firmament. — Shakespeare. 

To be longing for this thing to-day, and for that thing to-morrow; 
to change likings for loathings, and to stand wishing and hankering 
at a venture, — how is it possible for any man to be at rest in this 
fluctuant humor and opinion. — UEstrange. 

Stand firm, don’t flutter. — Franklin. 

Spread out the thunder into single tones, and it becomes a lullaby 
for children ; but pour it out in one quick peal, and the royal sound shail 
rend the heavens. — Schiller. 

In the power of fixing the attention lies the most precious of the 
intellectual habits. — Robert Hall. 

“ Whate’er your forte, to that your zeal confine, 

Let all your efforts there concentered shine.” 

Better the chance of shipwreck on a voyage of high purpose, than 
expend life in paddling hither and thither on a shallow stream to no 
purpose at all. — Miss Sedgwick. 

Half the wrecks that strew life’s ocean, 

If some star had been their guide, 

Might have now been riding safely, 

But they drifted with the tide. — Robert Whitaker. 


“ I have come here to read,” said Dickens, when 
asked to attend social gatherings in Boston. “ The 
people expect me to do my best, and how can I do 
it, if I am all the time on the go ? My time is not 
my own when I am preparing to read, any more 
than it is when I am writing a novel; and I can as 
well do one as the other without concentrating all 

O 

my power on it till it is done.” 

266 


THIS ONE THING I DO. 


267 


u 




Professor Agassiz, when once invited to lecture in 
Portland, Maine, replied that he was very sorry, but 
he was just then busy with some researches that left 
him no time to make money. 

“ I was too busy studying to contract the habits 
that make such inroads on the health and pockets of 
young men,” says Mr. Carnegie, “ and this helped 
me in many ways.” 

The man who succeeds has a programme : he fixes 
his course, and adheres to it; he lays his plans, and 
executes them ; he goes straight to his goal. He is 
not pushed this side and that every time a difficulty 
is thrust in his way. If he can’t go over it, he goes 
through it. 

What a sublime spectacle is that of a man going 
straight to his goal, cutting his way through difficul¬ 
ties, and surmounting obstacles which dishearten 
others as though they were stepping-stones ! 

What the world wants to-day is young men like 
Grant who “ propose to move immediately ” upon 
the enemy, and “ to fight it out upon this line if it 
takes all summer ” ; young men who can devote them¬ 
selves to one overmastering purpose, one unwaver¬ 
ing aim, with an exclusiveness of application, a blind¬ 
ness of attachment to the occupation or profession 
which will make them forget, for the time being, 
that any other career could possibly be desirable. 
Those who make the great failures in life are the 
aimless, the purposeless, the indifferent, the blunder¬ 
ing, the shiftless, the half-hearted. There is no trend 
of purpose running through their work, unifying 


268 


SUCCESS. 


their efforts, and giving direction or meaning to their 
lives. A man with an all-absorbing purpose within 
him excites our admiration, because he is lifted above 
the leanness and meanness, the cheapness and petti¬ 
ness, which are the curse of common lives. There 
is a moral sublimity in everything he does, because 
there is an aim in it; there is directness, there is 
meaning, there is contagion in it. 

It has been truly said that “ great minds have pur¬ 
poses, others have wishes,” and that “ the most suc¬ 
cessful people are those who have but one object and 
pursue it with great persistence.” 

“ The great art,” says Goethe, “ is to judiciously 
limit and isolate one’s self.” 

That whole long string of habits — attention, 
method, patience, self-control, and the others, so 
essential to success — can be rolled up and balled, 
as it were, in the word, “ concentration.” 

What mattered it to Palissy, if the world did call 
him insane in thinking he could recover the lost 
art of enameling? What cared Stephenson that the 
world ridiculed steam locomotion? The way that 
stretches into the future, that seems dark and forbid¬ 
ding to the world, is often illumined to the indi¬ 
vidual by an inner light which others cannot see. 
But the soul sees it and is confident, joyful, even 
when others are turbulent and sad. The soul sees 
victory in its apparent defeat; it sees joy in the 
gloom, light in the darkness. A power stronger than 
his own, and outside himself, holds an earnest man 
in his orbit as the stars are held in their courses. 


269 


“this one THING I DO.” 

What sublime pluck and determination was that of 
Mohammed, working three years to gain thirteen 
converts! Then he called a meeting of forty of his 
kindred, and told them he was going to redeem man¬ 
kind from the worship of idols, for he had found the 
true God. He gained but one listener, a boy of six¬ 
teen, and the meeting broke up with laughter at the 
idea that this old man and a boy should start out to 
redeem, a world. But Mohammed went right on, 
publishing his doctrine to the pilgrims who came to 
Mecca, or whoever would listen to him. Hot even 
the threat of death could daunt his courage and 
determination. He was ever hiding in caves and flee¬ 
ing for safety. After thirteen years of hardship, he 
found forty men, one from each of the great tribes, 
bound together with an oath to kill him. Over rocks 
and deserts for two hundred miles he fled for his 
life. The history of the East dates from this flight, 
— the Hegira. Students are familiar with his story 
for the next ten years, forcing his doctrine with the 
sword. The Orient no longer laughed at the idea 
of a man and boy reforming the world. 

Every man with an idea, with an overmastering pur¬ 
pose, usually has a minority of one, — only one man 
who believes it. But nature herself is the greatest um¬ 
pire in these games where only the fittest can survive. 

Mohammed had an idea which neither ridicule, 
hardship, poverty, or humiliating defeat could con¬ 
quer. Borne up by this overmastering purpose, he 
moved steadily on toward his goal. The idea, 
mighty and overpowering, ever urged him on. What 


270 


SUCCESS. 


a reproof and rebuke to the young man in this land 
of opportunities, this land of culture and freedom, 
that this uncultured, semi-barbarous son of nature 
should, single handed and alone, force a new faith 
on a ridiculing and opposing world ! 

Bismarck adopted it for the purpose of his life to 
snatch Germany from Austrian oppression, and to 
gather round Prussia in a North German Confedera¬ 
tion, all the states whose thought, religion, manners, 
and interests were in harmony with those of Prussia. 
“ To attain this end,” he once said in conversation, 
“ I would brave all dangers, — exile, the scaffold it¬ 
self. What matter if they hang me, provided the 
rope with which I am hung binds this new Germany 
firmly to the Prussian throne ? ” 

German unity was engraven upon his heart. What 
cared this Herculean despot for the Diet after Diet 
chosen year after year simply to vote down every 
measure he proposed ? He simply defied and sent 
every Diet home. He could play the game alone. 
To make Germany the greatest power in Europe was 
his all-absorbing purpose, and also to make William 
of Prussia a greater potentate than Napoleon or 
Alexander. It mattered not what stood in his way, 
whether people, Diet, or nation, all must bend to his 
mighty will. 

Imagine England’s surprise when she awoke to 
find Disraeli, the insignificant Hebrew, Chancellor of 
the Exchequer. He was easily master of the tor¬ 
tures supplied by the army of rhetoric; he could 
exhaust the resources of the bitterest invective; he 



PRINCE BISMARCK. 

« i kn ow no such unquestionable badge and ensign of a soyereign mind as 
that tenacity of purpose which, through all changes of companions, or parties, 
orfortunes, changes^ e ver, bates no jot of heart or hope, but wearies out oppo¬ 
sition and arrives at its port.” 













































































































. 






























* 

































































































































THIS ONE THING I DO. 


271 


u 


JJ 


could sting Gladstone out of his self-control; he was 
absolute master of himself when he was on his feet. 

You can see that this voung man intends to make 
his way in the world. A determined audacity is in 
his very face. He is a gay fop. Handsome, with 
the hated Hebrew blood in his veins, after three de¬ 
feats in Parliamentary elections, he was not daunted 
in the least, for he knew his day would come. Lord 
Melbourne, the Prime Minister, when this gay youth 
was introduced to him, asked him what he wished to 
be. “ Prime Minister of England,” was his audacious 
reply. 

If we go into a factory where they make mar¬ 
iner’s compasses, we can see many of the needles 
before they are magnetized, but they will point in 
any direction. But when they have been applied to 
the magnet and received its peculiar power, from 
that moment they point to the North, and are true 
to the pole ever after. 

A man who gives himself wholly to an idea, is 
certain to accomplish something; and, if he have 
ability and common sense, his success will be great. 

Cyrus W. Field said: “It has been a long and 
hard struggle to lay the Atlantic cable, — nearly thir¬ 
teen years of anxious watching and ceaseless toil. 
Often has my heart been ready to sink. I have some¬ 
times almost accused myself of madness for sacrific¬ 
ing all my home comforts for what might after all 
prove a dream. I have seen my companions one after 
another fall by my side, and feared that I, too, might 
not live to see the end. I have often prayed that I 


272 


SUCCESS. 


might not taste of death till this work was accom- 
plished. That prayer is now answered.” 

“We attend to our business, and nothing else,” 
said the elder Delmonico. “ You never heard of us on 
the road, nor driving four-in-hands. We never went 
to the theatre, but waited on those who did. We had 
no outside business, — no ventures or speculations in 
oil, wild lands, patents, or stocks. What money we 
had, we put into our house. We took care of our busi¬ 
ness, and our business took care of us. We gave per¬ 
sonal attention to everything which Avas going on.” 

Mr. Vanderbilt paid his cook a salary of $10,000 a 
year, because he understood the art of cooking to per¬ 
fection. As a well-known humorist says in his funny 
way, “ If Monsieur Sauceagravi could cook tolerably 
well, and shoot a little, and speak three languages 
tolerably well, and keep books fairly, and could 
telegraph a little, — and so on with a dozen other 
things, — he wouldn’t get ten thousand a year for it.” 

Nothing had been heard from Dr. Livingstone for 
three years, and it was feared he was lost in the 
jungles of Africa or had met some terrible death. If 
alive, he was supposed to be somewhere in that vast 
region indicated in our geographies by a large blank. 
Newspapers and clergymen throughout the civilized 
world were asking that a relief expedition be sent 
in search of the great explorer and missionary. 

“Come to Paris on important business,” James 
Gordon Bennett telegraphed to a young man in 
Madrid who was there corresponding for the New 
York Ilerald . Within an hour this “ever-ready” 


273 


“this one THING I DO.” 

man was on his way. Arriving at Paris, he went 
straight to Mr. Bennett, though it was late at night, 
saying he was ready for anything wanted of him. 

“ Where do you think Livingstone is ? ” asked Mr. 
Bennett. 

“ Eeally, sir, I have no idea.” 

“Well, I think he is alive, and I am afraid he may 
be in want, so you are to go to him. Take whatever 
you need for yourself and for him : go as you please ; 
but find Livingstone. Draw £1000 now, and as much 
more as you need later; but find Livingstone.” 

John Howlands, the young man thus commissioned 
to one of the greatest undertakings in history, had 
lived for ten years in his youth in a poor-house in 
Wales, from which he managed to escape at the age 
of thirteen, and ship as a cabin-boy on a steamer 
which landed him at New Orleans. He early 
changed his name to Henry M. Stanley, and by sheer 
energy and force of character pushed his way up¬ 
ward until we find him the most trusted correspond¬ 
ent of one of the greatest newspapers. 

The story of the wonderful expedition, of the 
fighting, of the wasting disease which killed so many 
of his men, and of his conquest of obstacles which 
seemed insurmountable, is as fascinating as a ro¬ 
mance. 

After terrible discouragement, he wrote in his 
journal, “ No living man shall stop me, only death 
can prevent me. But death; — not even this: I 
shall not die — I will not die — I cannot die. Some¬ 
thing tells me I shall find him — write it larger 


274 


SUCCESS. 


— find him, FIND HIM. Even the words are in¬ 
spiring.” 

And find Livingstone he did. “ I thank God, 
Doctor,” he exclaimed, “ that I have been permitted 
to see you.” 

“ I feel grateful that I am alive to welcome you,” 
responded the great explorer. 

But in spite of all his sufferings, after they had 
had long interviews, Livingstone said that he should 
remain in Africa and continue his work. 

Leaving Livingstone with four years’ supplies, and 
taking his letters and journals, Stanley hastened 
back to report his wonderful story to Mr. Bennett; 
and when, some time afterward, Livingstone died, 
Stanley was one of the pall-bearers who laid their 
precious burden in Westminster Abbey. 

No man can succeed who has not a fixed and reso¬ 
lute purpose in his mind, and an unwavering faith 
that he can carry that purpose out. 

“ Steadfast application to a fixed aim” is the law 
of a well-spent life. It made Turner a great painter; 
Bentley a great scholar; Priestley a great chemist; 
Macaulay a great historian ; Grant a great general; 
Lincoln a great statesman. 

Buxton held the conviction that a young man 
may be very much what he pleases, provided he 
forms a strong resolution and holds to it. 

“ There is no secret about amassing wealth,” said 
Vanderbilt; “all that you have to do is to attend to 
business and go ahead, except one thing, and that is, 
never tell what you are going to do until you have 
done it.” 


275 


“this one THING I DO.” 

Hazlitt was accustomed to stick a wafer on his fore¬ 
head when he began to compose; and when his 
housekeeper saw that wafer she dared not disturb 
him, even if a prince called to see him. What were 
princes to him when he was communing with gods 
and angels! 

It is no uncommon thing to see a man of consider¬ 
able talent surpassed in commercial life by one appar¬ 
ently greatly his inferior, from no other reason than 
this, that while the one devotes his whole energy and 
undivided thought to the object of his life, the other 
is diverted by many irreconcilable tastes, and grudg- 
ingly gives but half his mind to the business on which 
depend all his worldly prospects. 

Of course a man cannot work at one thing every 
minute. He should have side-tracks on which he 
can “switch off” now and then, provided the side¬ 
tracks all lead to the same terminus with the main 
line. But a man must not be on side-tracks all his 
life. 

The most successful men have been in a sense men 
of one dominant idea. 

“ To achieve success and fame, you must pursue a 
special line,” said President Hayes. “ You must not 
make a speech on every motion offered or bill intro¬ 
duced. You must confine yourself to one particular 
thing. Become a specialist. Take up some branch 
of legislation and make that your study. Why not 
take up the subject of tariff ? Being a subject that 
will not be settled for years to come, it offers a great 
field for study and a chance for ultimate fame.” 


276 


SUCCESS. 


With these words ringing in his ears, William 
McKinley began studying the tariff, and soon became 
one of the foremost authorities on the subject. 

The day upon which the “ McKinley Tariff Bill ” 
was passed in the House must always stand as the 
supreme moment of McKinley’s Congressional career. 

Find some new want of society, — some fertile 
source of profit or honor, — some terra incognita of 
business, whose virgin soil is yet unbroken, and there 
stick and grow. “Specialties” are the open sesame 
to wealth. 

“ Who are the greatest money-makers of the pres¬ 
ent day?” asks Robert Waters. “Who are they 
that control the world by the immensity of their 
capital ? The Jews, — the once despised, persecuted, 
oppressed, maltreated, but now triumphant, Jews. 
How have they come by this character? How have 
they acquired this power? It is well known that 
this race has, for many centuries and in all European 
countries, been forbidden to become citizens or sub¬ 
jects, to own lands, to till the soil, to bear arms, to take 
part in any of the concerns and interests in which 
their neighbors and countrymen have taken part. 
What was the result? They were compelled to re¬ 
strict their exertions to barter, to buying and selling, 
to exchange, to the accumulation of wealth by the 
use of wealth in every possible way. They became 
the inventors of letters of credit, of bills of exchange, 
and of book-keeping; and they are now the largest 
operators in loans and exchange in the world. 

“Thus, having been shut out from other careers 


THIS ONE THING I DO. 


277 


« 


and compelled to devote their whole energies to 
money-making, they have acquired a genius for the 
acquisition of wealth; they have become masters in 
this science; they have amassed millions where 
others have acquired thousands; they have grown 
rich while others have been starving; and have, in 
short, become the greatest capitalists in the money¬ 
making world.” 

Mons. Drumont in his book on the French Jews, 
“ La France Juive,” shows that every daily newspaper 
in Paris, except two, is in the hands of the Jews; that 
all the railroads, the banks, the exchange, and many 
of the great public offices are owned or controlled 
by them. 

Let us shun that rapidity that leads to superfici¬ 
ality. Let us welcome that habit of concentration 
which takes us to the root of things. 

It is the single aim that wins. 

Bonaparte once said of himself: “ When my reso¬ 
lution is taken, all is forgotten except what will make 
it succeed.” 

The great secret of his skill as a warrior consisted 
in this, that he did his business thoroughly; if he 
met an army in two or three divisions, he did not 
divide his army in the same proportion. No; he 
brought all his strength to bear on one point until 
that was annihilated. So with McDonough on Lake 
Champlain. He directed all his force, every gun, 
against the “ big ship” of the enemy. No matter 
how pressing or annoying others might be, every 
ball was to be sent toward the “ big ship ” till her 


278 


SUCCESS. 


guns were silenced. This is a good principle to carry 
out in regard to everything. 

“ He had a directness of action never before com¬ 
bined with so much comprehension,” says Emerson 
of Napoleon. “He sees where the matter hinges, 
throws himself on the precise point of resistance, and 
slights all other considerations. . . . 

“ Napoleon understood his business. Here was a 
man who, in each moment and emergency, knew 
what to do next. It is an immense comfort and 
refreshment to the spirits, not only of kings, but of 
citizens. Few men have any next; they live from 
hand to mouth, without plan, and are ever at the 
end of their line, and, after each action, wait for an 
impulse from abroad.” 

He was finally defeated by violation of his own 
tactics, “ The constantly repeated crushing force of 
heavy battalions.” 

Look at a ship, becalmed without a pilot, with 
sluggish sails flapping against the mast, swayed 
alternately by wind and tide, ever in motion, and 
yet never nearer its destined port. Just such is the 
irresolute man. Every breeze that blows makes him 
its sport, and every turn of the tide of fortune drags 
him helplessly along in its current. But see the 
same ship with all its sails bent, a prosperous wind 
urging it on, the pilot at the helm, the seamen ready, 
each at his appointed post of duty, and the rude 
ocean yields to its prow, and flings up its spray 
unheeded and harmless on its sides. 

“ A man without a purpose is no man,” says Carlyle. 


279 


“this one THING I DO.” 

Don Quixote thought he could have made beauti¬ 
ful bird-cages and tooth-picks if his brain had not 
been so full of ideas of chivalry. 

“An archangel a little damaged” was Charles 
Lamb’s wistful comment on the later Coleridge. It 
is the saddest picture in all the wide gallery of Eng¬ 
lish literature. Yet he only lacked concentration. 

Lord Chesterfield’s son could write a theme in 
three languages when a boy, but in spite of his 
father’s wonderful training, he was a mere cipher in 
the world as a man. He had no definiteness. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds used to say that a painter 
should sew up his mouth if he would excel in his 
art. 

We waste our time doing too many things, read¬ 
ing too many books, seeing too many people, talking 
too much. 

“Mental shiftlessness” is the cause of many a fail¬ 
ure. The world is full of unsuccessful men who 
spend their lives letting empty buckets down into 
empty wells. 

Is it anything surprising that those who aim at 
nothing, accomplish nothing? 

From the beginning of his career Johns Hopkins 
declared that he had a mission from God to increase 
his store, and that the golden flood which poured 
into his coffers did not belong to the hundreds who 
sought to borrow or beg it from him. They called 
him an “ old miser,” “old skinflint,” “ mean,” “ stingy,” 
and every opprobrious epithet they could think of. 
But it was all the same to him, for he had a grander 


280 


SUCCESS. 


use and purpose for his millions than feeding profes¬ 
sional beggars. Four millions were given to endow 
a free hospital in Baltimore. Three millions were 
given to endow the Johns Hopkins University, near 
Baltimore. He left in all nine millions for these 
institutions. The unfortunates who may be sick 
have a place to go, where without money they will 
be tenderly cared for, while young men who are 
seeking an education will be most liberally assisted. 
Think of the thousands of young men down to the 
end of time who will reap the benefits of Johns 
Hopkins’ carrying out the magnificent purpose he 
had planned early in his business career. 

Every man needs the inspiration of a great mission 
to lift him above the pettiness and cheapness which 
are the bane of ordinary lives. Some great under¬ 
taking with an element of heroism and moral sub¬ 
limity in it, the very contemplation of which 
quickens the blood and fires the soul and awakens an 
ever-present sense of the dignity and significance of 
life, — this is an essential condition of all great 
achievement. 

Some writer challenges the world to produce an 
example parallel to Peter Cooper’s from the ranks of 
those born in affluence. The same route which he 
traveled is open for every young man to pursue, to 
make the best time possible, — the most of him¬ 
self. The great secret of Mr. Cooper’s success was in 
having a plan on which he concentrated all his 
energy, never turning to the right or to the left, but 
keeping on the straight course until the goal was 


THIS ONE THING I DO. 


281 


u 


reached, his great work centered on this one thing 

-a SUBLIME PURPOSE. 

“ There are some men whose failure to succeed in 
life is a problem to others, as well as to themselves,” 
says Freeman Hunt. “ They are industrious, prudent, 
and economical; yet, after a long life of striving, 
old age finds them still poor. They complain of 
ill-luck, they say fate is against them. But the real 
truth is that their projects miscarry because they 
mistake mere activity for energy. Confounding two 
things essentially different, they suppose that if they 
are always busy, they must of necessity be advancing 
their fortunes; forgetting that labor misdirected is 
but a waste of activity. 

“ The person who would succeed in life is like a 
marksman firing at a target, — if his shot misses the 
mark, it is but a waste of powder; to be of any ser¬ 
vice at all, it must tell in the bull’s eye or near it. 
So, in the great game of life, what a man does must 
be made to count, or it might almost as well be left 
undone. 

“ Energy, correctly understood, is activity propor¬ 
tioned to the end. The first Napoleon would often, 
when in a campaign, remain for days without undress¬ 
ing himself, now galloping from point to point, now 
dictating dispatches, now studying maps and direct¬ 
ing operations. But his periods of repose, when the 
crisis was over, were generally as protracted as his 
previous exertions had been. He is said to have 
slept for eighteen hours without waking. Second- 
rate men, slaves of tape and routine, while they 


282 


SUCCESS. 


would fall short of the superhuman exertions of the 
great emperor, would have considered themselves 
lost beyond hope if they imitated what they call 
his indolence. They are capital illustrations of 
activity keeping up their jog-trot forever; while 
Napoleon with his gigantic industry, alternating 
with such apparent idleness, is an example of 
energy. 

“ We do not mean to imply that chronic indolence, 
if relieved occasionally by spasmodic fits of industry, 
is to be recommended. Real energy is persevering, 
steady, disciplined. It never loses sight of the object 
to be accomplished or intermits its exertions while 
there is a possibility of success. Napoleon on the 
plains of Champagne, sometimes fighting two battles 
in one day, first defeating the Russians and then 
turning on the Austrians, is an illustration of this 
energy. The Duke of Brunswick idling away pre¬ 
cious time when he invaded France at the outbreak 
of the first Revolution, is an example of the contrary. 
Activity beats about a covey like an untrained dog, 
never lighting on the covey. Energy goes straight 
to the bird and captures it at once.” 

As a sensible writer says: “A man starts on his 
career with a tacit understanding with himself that 
he is to rise. It is a step-by-step progress. He 
probably has no distinct aim. It is only in books 
that he resolves from the first dawning of ambition 
to become owner of such an estate, or bishop of such 
a see. But he means to get on , and devotes all his 
powers to that end. He fixes his thought beyond 


“this one thing i do.” 283 

immediate self-indulgence, chooses his friends as they 
will help the main design, falls in love on the same 
principle, and, habitually deferring to a vague but 
glowing future, learns to look towards it, and for its 
sake to be self-denying and long-sighted. His in¬ 
stincts quicken ; he puts forth feelers, which men who 
take their pleasure from hand to mouth have no use 
for; he lives in habitual caution, with an eye always 
to the main chance. Thus he refines and enhances 
that natural discretion which doubles the weight and 
value of every other gift, and yet keeps them on an 
unobtrusive level, leaving itself the most notable 
quality, till he is universally pronounced the man 
made to get on, by people who do not know that it 
is a steady will that has made and kept him what 
he is.” 

Look at Franklin, and no longer despair of obtain¬ 
ing honest and honorable support for yourselves and 
families, and of even doing something which every 
man’s heart glows in doing, — something which shall 
make some one wiser, better, happier, — something 
that may be recorded on your tombstone as an 
evidence that you lived not in vain. And not only 
to the mechanic, to the artisan, to the laborer, is this 
man an “ open book,” but to you, O kings, princes, 
governors of the earth! to you, presidents and pre¬ 
miers! to you, lords and commons! to you, Mr. 
Mayor, aldermen and common councilmen! to you, 
and every man in any office which may minister to 
the good of the state, — to you come the words and 
actions of this old philosopher and statesman as a 


284 


SUCCESS. 


legacy of public usefulness. Well may you emulate 
his firmness and fidelity, — his patient endurance 
and persevering zeal, — his comprehensive patriotism 
and imperturbable kind feeling and good nature. 
As well may you take counsel with one who was 
never marred by elevation, nor spoiled by flattery, 
nor soured by disappointment, nor daunted by oppo¬ 
sition, nor corrupted by ambition. 

Wherever he found anything to be done, he did it; 
anything to be investigated, he investigated it; any¬ 
thing to be invented or discovered, he forthwith tried 
to invent or discover it, — and almost always suc¬ 
ceeded. He did everything as if his whole attention 
in life had been given to that one thing. And thus, 
while he did enough in literature to be classed among 
the writers of his day, — enough in invention and 
science to secure him the reputation of a great phi¬ 
losopher,— enough in domestic politics to win the 
title of a great statesman, — enough in foreign 
negotiations to merit the designation of a great 
diplomatist, he found time to do enough, also, in 
works of general utility, humanity, and benevolence, 
to insure him a perpetual memory as a great phil¬ 
anthropist. 

Walter Scott spared no pains and considered no 
labor burdensome which helped him in his purpose. 
He studiously avoided making acquaintances who 
would rob him of his time and divert his mind from 
its object. Amusements were shunned with the 
same intention, and sleep was retrenched in order 
that the morning might be devoted to study. He 


285 


“this one THING I DO.” 

furnishes a suggestive instance of the possibility of 
doubling life by doubling the work while life lasts. 

A young man never knows who may be watching 
him. Business men have keen sight. They recog¬ 
nize talent wherever it appears. Changes are con¬ 
stantly going on. There is a vacancy to be filled. 
Who shall fill it? A hundred — five hundred — 
apply, and only one is wanted. The proprietors have 
been watching a young man in some other establish¬ 
ment for six months, and have had his name on a 
memorandum; and, as occasion gave them oppor¬ 
tunity, they have watched his business tact and the 
hold he has on customers. 

A one-talent man who concentrates his powers 
upon one unwavering aim accomplishes more than 
the ten-talent man who scatters his energies and 
never quite knows what he can do best. 

The poorest scholar in school or college often far 
outstrips the class leader or the senior wrangler in 
practical life, simply because what little ability he 
has he brings to a focus in a definite aim, while the 
other, who looked upon the first with contempt, 
depends upon his general ability and brilliant pros¬ 
pects, has no particular object in view, and accom¬ 
plishes nothing of note. Concentration is the secret 
of all great execution in explosives, and, in fact, in 
all science, and it is equally the secret in the law of 
success. 

Our monopolizing ambition, our greediness which 
leads us to overreach and grasp so many things, 
cause us to lose many prizes. Nearly all young 


286 


SUCCESS. 


men lay out their plans on so vast a scale that it 
would require a Methusaleh’s lifetime to carry them 
out. 

A definite purpose is like the sides of a cannon or 
barrel of a rifle, which give aim and direction to the 
projectile. Without these barriers to concentrate 
the expanding powder, it would simply flash without 
moving the ball. How many a miserable failure 
might have been a great triumph ; how many dwarfs 
might have been giants; how many a “ mute in¬ 
glorious Milton ” has died with all his music in him; 
how many a scholar has sipped of many arts, but 
drank of none, from just this lack of a definite aim! 

The mind is naturally a vagrant, prone to wander 
into all sorts of by-ways unless kept steadily and 
resolutely to its purpose. It was a great purpose 
which made Socrates indifferent to the hemlock. A 
voice had spoken to his soul, and he obeyed it. It 
was irresistible. It was a great purpose which made 
Grant invincible, and enabled him to hammer away 
at the Confederacy, in spite of the armies and diffi¬ 
culties in front, and the criticism and opposition of 
the press behind him, until he had received Lee’s 
sword at Appomattox. 

It is a great purpose that grinds into paint all the 
experiences, fag ends, and waste of life, and makes 
everything available for the great canvas of our art, 
which otherwise would be dissipated and lost. 

To succeed to-day you must concentrate all the 
powers of your mind upon one definite goal and have 
a tenacity of decision which means death or victory. 


THIS ONE THING I DO. 


287 


a 




Every other inclination which tempts you from this 
unswerving purpose must be repressed. 

Your purpose may not be very definite at first, but 
like a river which starts in a series of ill-defined pools 
or streams, if all your aims are in the right direc¬ 
tion they will finally run together, and, swollen by 
hundreds of side rills, merge into a mighty stream of 
purpose and sweep you on to the ocean of success. 
A great purpose is cumulative ; and, like a great 
magnet, it attracts all that is kindred along the 
current of life. 

“ The undivided will 

’Tis that compels the elements and wrings 
A human music from the indifferent air.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


“i HAD A FRIEND.” 

As, o’er the glacier’s frozen sheet, 

Breathes soft the Alpine rose; 

So, through Life’s desert, springing sweet, 

The Flower of Friendship grows. — Holmes. 

Ah, how good it feels! 

The hand of an old friend.— Longfellow. 

A faithful friend is the true image of the Deity. — Napoleon. 

Life has no other blessing like a prudent friend. — Euripides. 

Good company and good discourse are the very sinews of virtue. — 
Izaa/c Walton. 

We take our colors, chameleon-like, from each other.— Chamfort. 

We are far more liable to catch the vices than the virtues of our as¬ 
sociates. — Diderot. 

He that walketh with wise men shall be wise; but a companion of 
fools shall be destroyed. — Proverbs. 

Friends are each other’s mirrors, and should be 

Clearer than crystal, or the mountain springs, 

And free from clouds, design, or flattery. — Catherine Philips. 

Beyond all wealth, honor, or even health, is the attachment we form 
to noble souls ; because to meet with the good, generous, and true, is to 
become, in a measure, good, generous, and true ourselves. — Dr. Arnold. 

In after life you may have friends — fond, dear friends; but never 
will you have again the inexpressible love and gentleness lavished 
upon you which none but a mother bestows. — Macaulay. 

Friendship’s the wine of life ; but friendship new is neither strong 
nor pure. — Young. 

Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, grapple them to 
thy soul with hooks of steel. — Shakespeare. 


“ This is a solemn day for me, boys! ” said a mur¬ 
derer born of pious parents in England, when at the 
gallows in Toronto, Canada. “ I hope this will be a 
warning to you against bad company. I hope it will 
be a lesson to all young people, and old as well as 
young, rich and poor. It was that which brought me 

288 


289 


“i HAD A FKIEND.” 

here to-day to my end, though I am innocent of the 
murder I am about to suffer for.” 

When it was customary to allow culprits before 
execution to make “last dying speeches and confes¬ 
sions,” in almost every instance the unfortunate and 
sinning wretches made the confession that “ bad com¬ 
panions ” had led them to the crime for which they 
were about to suffer. The myriads who have de¬ 
voted their lives to drinking and gaming habits have 
ascribed their wreck and downfall, not so much to 
the love of drink and mere play as to the love of 
company and the attractive temptation presented by 
bad companions. 

A dying man, whose life had been prominent, but 
full of harm, asked that his influence be gathered 
up and buried with him in his grave. 

George Eliot says that there is no sort of wrong 
deed of which a man can bear the punishment alone ; 
you can’t isolate yourself and say that the evil which 
is in you shall not spread. Men’s lives are as thor¬ 
oughly blended one with another as the air they 
breathe; evil spreads as necessarily as disease. 

A story is told of two parrots which lived near 
each other. The one had been taught to sing hymns, 
while the other was addicted to swearing. The 
owner of the latter obtained permission for it to 
associate with the former in the hope that its bad 
habit would be corrected; but the opposite result 
followed, for both learned to swear alike. 

No man is your friend who will corrupt you. An 
impure man is every good man’s enemy —your 


u 


290 


SUCCESS. 


deadly foe; and all the worse, if he hide his poisoned 
dagger under the cloak of good-fellowship. There¬ 
fore, select your associates, assort them, winnow 
them, keep the grain, and let the wind sweep away 
the chaff. 

Charles James Fox was unfortunate in his home 
training, but its defects were largely remedied 
through his friendship with Edmund Burke. He 
declared publicly that if he were to put all the politi¬ 
cal information which he had learned from books, all 
which he had gained from science, and all which any 
knowledge of the world and its affairs had taught 
him, into one scale, and the improvement which he 
had derived from Burke’s instruction and conversa¬ 
tion were placed in the other, he should be at a loss 
to decide to which to give the preference. What 
would Cicero have been without Atticus, or Xeno¬ 
phon without Socrates? 

Ill qualities are contagious as well as disease; and 
the mind is at least as much liable to infection as the 
body. 

We do not notice the poisonous air in a close sleep¬ 
ing-room where we have remained for hours; but to 
one who enters in the morning, it is exceedingly of¬ 
fensive. The accumulation of carbonic-acid gas in 
the blood produces a narcotic effect and diminishes 
the sensibility of the nerve centers and stupefies the 
brain. Miners are often overcome by foul gases be¬ 
fore they realize that they are being poisoned. 

Bad associates unconsciously stupefy the young, 
who do not notice the poisonous atmosphere until 

























. 































































RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 

“ Our chief want in life is somebody who shall make us do what we can. This 
is the service of a friend.” 











































291 


“ I HAD A FRIEND.’’ 

too late to prevent injury. Men become so accus¬ 
tomed to sewer gas that they scarcely notice it, yet 
their blood is being slowly poisoned. Young men 
often become accustomed to the moral sewer gas of 
vicious companionship , and do not realize that their 
souls are absorbing poison until their characters are 
seriously damaged. 

Two molecules of matter unite to form a new sub¬ 
stance, and they then can do what neither could have 
done alone. So each of two men often develops in 
the other what was never apparent before in either. 
The thought of each alone was a single element, 
but on coming in contact with another thought, a 
new compound is formed which neither man ever 
dreamed of before. One lights for the other the fire 
which neither could have ignited alone. A flint and 
steel could never make a fire while kept apart, but 
the friction of contact brings out the spark which 
otherwise would have slept forever. One mind 
evokes from another sparks which would be impos¬ 
sible to it singly. 

“ Our chief want in life,” says Emerson, “ is some¬ 
body who shall make us do what we can. This is 
the service of a friend. With him we are easily 
great. There is a sublime attraction in him to what¬ 
ever virtue is in us. How he flings wide the doors 
of existence! What questions we ask of him! 
What an understanding we have! how few words 
are needed! it is the only real society.” 

“ To love the little platoon we belong to in society,” 
said Burke, “is the germ of all public affections.” 


292 


SUCCESS. 


Our faces and manners are the bulletin boards 
whereon are advertised all the performances within. 
The programme of last night’s carousal, the dens of 
infamy visited, the photographs of his companions, 
will all be published in spite of him, in the expres¬ 
sion and bearing of the debauchee. Like insects 
which assume the color of the leaves of plants they 
feed upon, we sooner or later become like the food 
of our minds, like the creatures within our hearts. 
No matter how sly, how secret they are, no matter, 
if our associations have been in the dark, their story 
will sooner or later appear in our countenances and 
conduct. The idols of the heart look out through 
the eyes, appear in the manners, and betray the wor¬ 
shipers. Our associates, loves, hates, dissipations, 
noble endeavors, shameful intrigues, honesty, dis¬ 
honesty, all our virtues and all our vices leave their 
record upon the soul’s bulletin board, to be read by 
all who will note carefully enough. 

The example of a good and great man is like a 
lighthouse: it not only warns, but directs; not only 
indicates the rock, but guides into port. No sermon 
can be so eloquent as a heroic life. 

Lord Clarendon says, “No man ever rose to any 
degree of reputation who made choice of or delighted 
in the company or conversation of those who were 
not far his superiors. Nothing is falser than that a 
man can hide his actions. They speak with miracu¬ 
lous tongues.” 

Pythagoras, before he would admit any one into 
his school, made strict inquiry as to who his intimate 


“ I HAD A FRIEND.” 293 

associates had been; rightly judging that those who 
had been careless about their companionships were 
not the most likely to derive benefit from his instruc¬ 
tions. A very brief acquaintance has been known to 
do a life-long injury. A spoonful of permanganate 
of potash is sufficient to give color to a hundred gal¬ 
lons of water; and a week of unwholesome friendship 
may prove enough to poison a whole life. 

The friends of the late John Sterling were accus¬ 
tomed to say of him, that it was impossible to come 
into contact with his noble nature and not be in some 
measure ennobled and lifted up into a higher region 
of aim and object. Haydn was inspired to become a 
musician by listening to Handel; Gomez, a painter, 
by watching Murillo; it was the genius of Reynolds 
that inspired the pencil of North cote. So, from the 
example or encouragement of a fit companion, our 
minds may receive the impulse which will carry 
them forward in the straight path which leads to 
happiness and honor. 

Bishop Hamilton, of Salisbury, bears the following 
testimony to the influence for good which Mr. Glad¬ 
stone, when a school-fellow at Eton, exercised upon 
him. “ I was a thoroughly idle boy, but I was saved 
from worse things by getting to know Gladstone.” 
At Oxford we are told that the effect of his example 
was so strong that men who followed him there ten 
years later declare that “ under-graduates drank less 
in the forties because Gladstone had been so cour¬ 
ageously abstemious in the thirties.” 

Good companions tend to the eradication of evil 


294 


SUCCESS. 


habits and the correction of poor and mean thinking. 
A man who enjoys the companionship of a wise and 
true man, who combines probity and goodness in his 
nature, and who has made knowledge the pursuit of 
his life, imbibes his spirit, and for a time becomes 
like him in thought and action. And then, too, the 
companionship of a superior inspires and quickens 
the understanding, — stimulates the intellect, so that 
a higher grade of language is used to express wiser 
and more elevated thoughts. 

John Locke accepted an invitation to a gathering 
of noted Englishmen and found them absorbed at 
cards. Taking his note book, he carefully jotted 
down their conversation. At the conclusion of the 
game he said : “ I have longed for the opportunity 
to meet such distinguished gentlemen, and being 
desirous of improving myself as much as possible, I 
have been writing your conversation in my note 
book.” The players were ashamed, and immediately 
turned the conversation to better things. 

An author is known by his writings, a mother by 
her daughter, a fool by his words, and all men by 
their companions. 

“What is the secret of your life?” asked Mrs. 
Browning of Charles Kingsley ; “ tell me, that I may 
make mine beautiful too.” He replied, “ I had a 
friendP 

At the Grant banquet given at Galena, Ill., H. D. 
Estabrook, of Chicago, read a letter from General 
John A. Rawlins to General Grant, written during 
the siege of Vicksburg, which, it was said, had never 


“ I HAD A FRIEND.” 295 

appeared before, and of the existence of which very 
few knew. The original, according to the Cleveland 
Plaindealer , is in the possession of a citizen of 
Galena. The letter is dated, “ Before Yicksburg, 
Miss., June 6, 1863, one o’clock a.m., ” and reads: 
“The great solicitude I feel for the safety of this 
army leads me to mention what I hoped never again 
to do — the subject of your drinking. This may 
surprise you, for I may be, and I trust I am, doing 
you an injustice by unfounded suspicion, but if I am 
in error it had better be on the side of this country’s 
safety than in fear of offending a friend. 

“I have heard that Dr. D-,at General Sher¬ 

man’s, a few days ago, induced you, notwithstanding 
your pledge to me, to take a glass of wine, and 
to-day, when I found a box of wine in front of your 
tent, and proposed to move it, which I did, I was 
told you had forbidden its being taken away, for you 
intended to keep it until } T ou entered Yicksburg, that 
you might have it for your friends; and to-night, 
when you should, because of the condition of your 
health, if nothing else, have been in bed, I find you 
where the wine bottle has just been emptied, in 
company with those who drink and urge you to do 
likewise, and the lack of your usual promptness and 
decision and clearness in expressing yourself in writ¬ 
ing conduces to confirm my suspicion. 

“ You have full control over your appetite and can 
let drinking alone. Had you not pledged me the sin¬ 
cerity of your honor early last March that you would 
drink no more during the war, and kept that pledge 



296 


SUCCESS. 


during the campaign, you would not have stood first 
in the world’s history as a successful leader. Your 
only salvation depends upon your strict adherence to 
that pledge; you cannot succeed in any other way. 

“ As I have before stated, I may be wrong in my 
suspicions, but if one sees that which leads him to 
suppose a sentinel is falling asleep at his post, it is 
his duty to arouse him, and if one sees that which 
leads him to fear the general commanding a great 
army is being seduced to that step which he knows 
will bring disgrace upon that general and defeat to 
his command, if he fails to sound the proper note of 
warning, the friends, wives, and children of those 
brave men whose lives he permits thus to remain in 
peril will accuse him while he lives and stand swift 
witnesses of wrath against him in the day when all 
shall be tried. 

“ If my suspicions are unfounded, let my friendship 
for you and my zeal for my country be the excuse 
for this letter, and if they be correctly founded, and 
you determine not to heed my admonitions and 
prayers in this hasty note by immediately ceasing to 
touch a single drop of any kind of liquor, by whom¬ 
soever asked or under whatsoever circumstances, let 
my immediate relief from duty in this department be 
the result.” 

Probably the necessity for this letter was over¬ 
estimated ; but, if needed, it was well heeded, for no 
world-famous leader ever exceeded Grant in sobriety. 

“We meet — at least those who are true to their 
instincts meet — a succession of persons through 


297 


“i HAD A FRIEND.” 

their lives, all of whom have some particular errand 
to us,” writes Margaret Fuller. “ There is an outer 
circle of people whose existence we perceive, but 
with whom we stand in no real relation. They tell 
us the news, they act on us in the offices of society, 
they show us kindness and aversion, but their in¬ 
fluence does not penetrate, we are nothing to them 
or they to us, except as a part of the world’s furni¬ 
ture. Another circle within this is composed of 
those who are near and dear to us. We know them 
and of what kind they are. They are not to us mere 
facts, but intelligible thoughts of the Divine Mind. 
We like to see how they are unfolded, we like to 
meet them, and part with them, we like their action 
upon us, and the pause that succeeds and enables us 
to appreciate its quality. Often we leave them on 
our path and return no more, but we bear them in 
our memory, tales which have been told, and whose 
meaning has been left. But yet a nearer group there 
are, beings born under the same star, and bound 
with us in a common destiny. They are not mere 
acquaintances, mere friends, but when we meet are 
sharers of our very existence. There is no separation, 
the same thought is given at the same moment to 
both. Indeed, it is born of the meeting, and would 
not otherwise have been called into existence at all. 
These not only know themselves more, — but are 
more for having met, and regions of their being, 
which would else have lain sealed in cold obstruction, 
burst into leaf and bloom and song.” 

A companion, according to the root-idea of the 


298 


SUCCESS. 


word, is one with whom we eat bread, — from com , 
with, or together, and panis , bread. 

When Socrates was building himself a house at 
Athens, being asked by one that observed the little¬ 
ness of the design, why a man so eminent would not 
have an abode more suitable to his dignity, he re¬ 
plied that he should think himself sufficiently accom¬ 
modated if he could see that narrow habitation filled 
with real friends. 

The character of every man is made up of that of 
other men, women, and children. Every one can 
truly say, as did a great poet of his hero, “ I am a 
part of all I have met.” Even mean men and 
women feel noble in the presence of true nobility. 
They cannot think mean thoughts or do mean things 
in the presence of the great and noble. They seem 
lifted out of their lower selves upon a higher and 
nobler plane of thought and feeling. For the time 
they are magnetized by goodness; they are lifted 
above the depressing gases and moral miasma of dis¬ 
sipated associates into a higher and purer atmosphere 
where truth and purity dwell. No one could live 
with a man like Phillips Brooks and not be a better, 
purer man. The manners of the roughest would be 
smoothed, the hardest nature softened, in such a 
manly atmosphere. Analyze the servants who lived 
long in his house, and you will find “Phillips Brooks” 
written upon every fiber of their character, as we see 
God reflected in the lives of some people because He 
lives in them. No ordinary man could live long with 
Phillips Brooks and be the same man he was before. 


I HAD A FRIEND. 


299 


u 




The magic spell of the great life would influence the 
most stubborn nature. 

In a cemetery a white stone marked the grave of a 
little girl, and on the stone were chiseled these words, 
— “A child of whom her playmates said, 4 It was 
easier to be good when she was with us,’ ” — one of 
the most beautiful epitaphs ever heard of. 

44 Wal’r, my boy,” replies the captain in “Dombey 
and Son ” ; 44 in the Proverbs of Solomon you will And 
the following words, 4 May we never want a friend 
in need, nor a bottle to give him!’ When found, 
make a note of.” His idea of true friendship was 
about as vague as his knowledge of the Bible. 

44 How can you account for the fact that in the 
household of princes the fool is in greater favor than 
the philosopher? ” asked the Prince of Yerona. 

44 Similarity of mind,” replied Dante , 44 is, the world 
over, the source of friendship.” 

Friendship, it is said, blooms on the cold hills of 
the north as well as in the rich vales of the south. 
Where fall the bright rays from a warm heart, the 
dews from a kind soul, there you may be sure to find 
it. But real friends, true in storm as well as in calm, 
in the dark night of woe as in the bright morn of 
joy, are like ghosts, much talked of but not often 
seen. In a chapter on friendship, Geikie says that 
Athenodorus, who, after dividing his estate with his 
brother Xenon, divided it again when Xenon had 
spent his own share, —Lucullus, who would not accept 
the Consulship till the younger brother had enjoyed 
it for a year, —Pollux, who divided his immortality 


300 


SUCCESS. 


with Castor, — Damon and Pythias, the philoso¬ 
phers, of whom Pythias was so willing to die for 
his friend, — are sweet echoes of human love, sent 
down from generation to generation, out of Pagan 
antiquity. Scripture adds its own list, in the story 
of Jonathan and David, — the heir to a throne fondly 
loving and helping him by whom he knew he was to 
be supplanted, — of Aquila and Priscilla, who would 
have laid down their necks for St. Paul, — and of 
St. Paul himself and young Timothy. In our own 
history, many divine instances shine like stars out of 
the blue. We have the deathless story of Beaumont 
and Fletcher, whose books are twin fruits on a single 
stem, — and Crowley and his friend Harvey, Milton 
and young Lycidas, Gray and West, and the Rich¬ 
ardsons, father and son, have memories of mingled 
fragrance. “ We make one man,” says the elder 
Richardson of his son, “ and such a compound man 
can probably produce what no single man can.” 
Akenside, when in danger of dying from want, had 
three hundred pounds a year allowed him by Mr. 
Dyson; Southey lived for years on the bounty of 
his friend Wynne; Coleridge found a calm harbor 
in his last years in Mr. Gillman’s, as Dr. Watts had 
for half a lifetime in Sir Thomas Abney’s; and 
Henry Hallam lives a purer than earthly life in 
Tennyson’s “ In Memoriam,” as Edward Irving does 
in the Threnody of Thomas Carlyle. Bright flowers 
of love they are, all of them, along the dusty high¬ 
ways of the world, — wet, like Gideon’s fleece, with 
the dews of Heaven, in the dryness around. 


I HAD A FRIEND. 


301 


u 

Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible satisfaction, of 
feeling safe with a friend, — having neither to weigh 
the thoughts nor measure the words, but pouring 
them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain 
together, certain that a faithful hand will take and 
sift them ; keep what is worth keeping, and then, 
with the breath of kindness, blow the rest away! 

No other possession of life holds such preponderat¬ 
ing value as one’s friends. All beside these are a 
part of the scenery of the external and temporary 
world, but friendships are of the eternal and divine. 
It is these that give value and zest to life, and furnish 
it with interest, charm, and happiness. 

When Abraham Lincoln was a young man starting 
in life, it used to be said of him, “ Lincoln has noth¬ 
ing, only plenty of friends.” To have plenty of 
friends is to be very rich,—if they are the right 
sort. 

Before the days of steamboats, men used to tow 
their boats up the Mississippi and the Ohio with 
long lines. At night they looked for solid trees to 
tie their boats to, for otherwise they might be gone 
in the morning. This was the origin of the phrase, 
“ that man will do to tie up to.” It is a significant 
phrase, too; for, while we have many acquaintances, 
the men we can tie to under all circumstances are 
very few. Don’t tie up to a companion until you 
know he is firm. 

“Which is Harper and which the brothers?” 
asked a gentleman visiting the office of Harper & 
Brothers. “ Either is Harper, and the others are the 


302 


SUCCESS. 


brothers,” replied James, the eldest, and this was 
indeed the relation the members of the great firm 
bore toward each other. 

Friendship, as Cicero tells us, is the only thing 
concerning the usefulness of which all mankind are 
agreed. It is sometimes called love without wings. 

McConaughy once asked a friend who had been 
a surgeon in the army, why it was that some of our 
young men came back so much improved, while others, 
from whom we looked for better things, returned 
good for nothing. lie replied that it all depended 
upon “tent-mates.” Where these were evil and 
degraded, the tendency was all downward, and it 
took great strength of character and purpose to 
withstand it. But let even a rough soldier boy have 
his lot cast among men who keep home-fires bright 
in their hearts, who gather at evening to sing over 
the home songs and hymns they sang with the 
children at twilight, and he will find himself lifted 
to a higher plane. 

“ There are some men and women in whose com¬ 
pany we are always at our best,” said Dr. Drum¬ 
mond. “While with them, we cannot think mean 
thoughts, or speak ungenerous words. Their pres¬ 
ence elevates and inspires us. All our best nature is 
drawn out by the intercourse, and we find music in 
our souls that was never there before.” 

“ No man,” said a.soldier of his time, “ ever entered 
Mr. Pitt’s closet who did not feel himself a braver 
man when he came out.” 

All men are known by their companions; indeed, 


303 


“ I HAD A FRIEND.” 

the greater part of the education which makes us 
what we are is obtained through example rather 
than precept. “’Tis meet,” then, as Shakespeare 
says, 

“ That noble minds keep ever with their likes 
For who so firm, that cannot be seduced ? ” 

From impure air we take diseases; from bad com¬ 
pany, vice and imperfection. Better have } 7 ellow 
fever or small-pox than be joined to a vicious com¬ 
panion. The curiosity of him who wishes to see 
fully for himself how the dark side of life looks, is 
like that of the man who took a torch into a powder 
mill to see whether it would really blow up or not. 

Ask Shame and Guilt, and they will tell you 
they were made what they are by Example and 
Intercourse; and on the other hand, Honor and 
Usefulness commonly hasten to own that they owe 
everything, humanly speaking, to some one they 
have copied. 

Hot long ago a young man of good family, excel¬ 
lent prospects, and pleasing address died like a dog 
in Paris, at the hands of her to whom he had proved 
faithless. He had been what is called a generous 
soul, a jolly good fellow, and had plenty of boon 
companions who joined him in their dissipations, 
and often with maudlin fervor, pledged their never- 
dying friendship. Yet — will you believe it? — 
when that body lay cold and still in the Morgue 
yonder, beyond the towers of old Notre Dame, — 
with none to claim it and give it decent interment, — 


304 


SUCCESS. 


there was not one of all his fast associates that paid 
it the tribute of a visit, not one to shed a tear over 
his cold clay, of all the depraved profligates he had 
entertained, and who had joined in his hilarious orgies. 

“ I tell you in all sincerity,” said John B. Gough, 
“ not as in the excitement of speech, but as I would 
confess and as I have confessed before God, I would 
give my right hand to-night if I could forget that 
which I learned in bad society.” 

Muck, especially from a cypress swamp, will modify 
shades of flowers. White roses may be variegated 
beautifully, for instance. 

Graft a Marechal Niel rose upon a blackthorn, 
and, instead of light canary yellow color, you may 
get pinkish yellow. 

Professor Agassiz proved the power of the flounder 
to change its color. Placed on blackish tiles, flounders 
turned mud color ; moved thence to sand tiles, in a 
few minutes their leaden skins paled to dull yellowish 
white; transferred to mimic sea-weeds, in five min¬ 
utes they assumed a greenish hue. There are innumer¬ 
able human flounders, — men and women who take 
their moral color from their surroundings. 

A flock of tame pigeons adorned with an infinite 
variety of markings, if let loose on an uninhabited 
island, become changed in time into the same color, 
— dark slaty blue. 

“ Come to my level if you would be my friend,” 
the bad man always says in his manner if not in his 
words. 

“ Chemists tell us that one grain of iodine imparts 


305 


“ I HAD A FRIEND.” 

color to seven thousand times its weight of water. 
So wide is the circle of influence wielded by one evil 
example.” 

“Whether the pitcher strike the stone, or the 
stone the pitcher,” says a Spanish proverb, “ woe be 
to the pitcher.” 

“ A watch-maker said that a gentleman had put into 
his hands an exquisite watch that went irregularly. 
It was as perfect a piece of work as was ever made. 
He took it to pieces and put it together again twenty 
times. No defect was to be discovered ; and yet the 
watch went intolerably. At last it struck him, that 
possibly the balance-wheel might have been near a 
magnet: on applying a needle to it, he found his 
suspicions true; here was all the mischief. The 
steel works in the other parts of the watch had a 
perpetual influence on its motions; and the watch 
went as well as possible with a new wheel. If the 
soundest mind be 7aagnetized by vicious associations, 
it must act irregularly.” 

“ Be courteous to all,” said Washington, “ but inti¬ 
mate with few, and let those few be well tried before 
you give them your confidence.” 

“ Make companions of few,” said a wise father to 
his son, “ be intimate with one, deal justly with all, 
speak evil of none.” 

There is no desert more desolate than a locality peo¬ 
pled wholly by strangers or unsympathetic acquaint¬ 
ances. IIow many wandering in foreign lands, or 
under the crushing weight of bereavement, have felt 
like saying with Longfellow in “Judas Maccabaeus” : 


306 


SUCCESS. 


“ Alas! to-day I would give everything 
To see a friend’s face or hear a voice 
That had the slightest tone of comfort in it.” 

Johnson said to Sir Joshua Reynolds : “If a man 
does not make new acquaintances as he advances 
through life, he will soon find himself left alone. A 
man, sir, should keep his friendship in constant 
repair.” 

When the great natural philosopher Michael Fara¬ 
day was a very young man, he wrote to a friend, — 
“ A companion cannot be a good one, unless he is 
morally so. I have met a good companion in the 
lowest path of life, and I have found such as I de¬ 
spised in a rank far superior to mine.” 

No one can long be your friend for whom you 
have not a decided esteem, — an esteem that will not 
permit you to trifle with his feelings, and which, of 
course, will prevent him from trifling with yours. 
Great familiarity is inconsistent with any abiding 
friendship. 

“But what!” some one will exclaim, “are we 
to set about making and keeping friends with the 
same attention as if we were raising hot-house 
fruit?” Yes, precisely so; but if a friend is not in 
your estimation worth as much as a bunch of Ham¬ 
burg grapes, I assure you it will be time wasted to 
try. When people complain that they have no 
friends, inquire what efforts they have made to get 
and keep them. True friendship is rare because it is 
rarely sought for. Keep up your friendships. Do 


307 


“i HAD A FRIEND.” 

not let the pursuit of fame or money or the pressure 
of business keep you from this sacred duty. 

Friendship is a good deal like china. It is very 
durable and very beautiful as long as it is quite 
whole; but break it, and all the cement in the world 
will never quite repair the damage. You may stick 
the pieces together so that, at a distance, it looks 
nearly as well as ever ; but it won’t hold hot water. 
It is always ready to deceive you if you trust it; and 
it is, on the whole, a very worthless thing, fit only to 
be put empty on a shelf and to be forgotten there. 
The finer and more delicate it is, the more utter the 
ruin. A mere acquaintance, which needs only a 
little good humor to keep it up, may be coarsely 
puttied like an old yellow basin in the store-closet, 
but tenderness, and trust, and sweet exchange of 
confidence can no more be yours when angry words 
and thoughts have broken them than can those deli¬ 
cate porcelain teacups which were shivered to pieces 
be restored to their original excellence. The slight¬ 
est crack will spoil the true ring, and } r ou would better 
search for a new friend than try and mend the old one. 

“ It is astonishing how much good goodness makes,” 
said Dr. Mozley. “Nothing that is good is alone, 
nor anything bad ; it makes others good or others 
bad, and those others, and so on ; like a stone thrown 
into a pond, which makes circles that make wider 
ones, and these others, till the last reaches the shore.” 

“How comest thou to smell so fragrantly?” asked 
the Persian poet Sadi of a clod of clay. “ The sweet¬ 
ness is not in myself,” replied the clay, “ but I have 


308 


SUCCESS. 


been lying in contact with the rose.” Yet the rose 
grew from that same clod of clay. 

“Every one who spares you is not your friend,” 
said Augustine, “ nor every one who smites you your 
enemy; it is better to love with fidelity than to de¬ 
ceive by good nature.” 

“ It is the solace of this life,” said St. Ambrose, 
“ to have one to whom you can open your heart, and 
tell your secrets; to win to yourself a faitiiful man, 
who will rejoice with you in sunshine, and weep in 
showers ; it is easy and common to say, ‘ I am wholly 
thine,’ but to find it true is as rare.” 

“ Carry a watchful eye upon those familiars that 
are either silent at thy faults, or soothe thee in thy 
frailties, or excuse thee in thy follies; for such are 
either cowards, or flatterers, or fools; if thou enter¬ 
tain them in prosperity, the coward will leave thee 
in thy danger, the flatterer will quit thee in adver¬ 
sity ; but the fool will never forsake thee.” 

“When two friends part,” said Feltham, “they 
should lock up each other’s secrets, and change the 
keys.” 

“ If I could be taken back into boyhood to-day,” 
said Garfield, “ and had all the libraries and appara¬ 
tus of a university, with ordinary routine professors, 
offered me on the one hand, and on the other a great, 
luminous, rich-souled man, such as Dr. Hopkins was 
twenty years ago, in a tent in the woods alone, I 
should say, ‘ Give me Dr. Hopkins for my college 
course, rather than any university with only routine 
professors. ’ ” 


309 


“i HAD A FRIEND.” 

“ The moment you place yourself in relation with 
living minds,” says Whipple, “ you find Shakespeare 
pouring Norman blood into your veins and the feu¬ 
dal system into your thoughts, and Milton putting 
iron into your will.” 

A man’s nearest kin are oftentimes far other than his dearest, 
Yet in the season of affliction those will haste to help him. 

For, note thou this, the providence of God hath bound up fam¬ 
ilies together, 

To mutual aid and patient trial; yea, those ties are strong. 
Friends are ever dearer in thy wealth, but relations to be trusted 
in thy need, 

For these are God’s appointed way, and those the choice of 
man; 

There is lower warmth in kin, but smaller truth in friends ; 

The latter show more surface, and the first have more depth. 
Relations rally to the rescue, even in estrangement and neglect, 
Where friends will have fled at thy defeat, even after promises 
and kindness. 

For friends come and go; the whim that bound, may loose them : 
But none can dissever a relationship, and fate hath tied the knot. 

— M. F. Tupper. 

Might I give counsel to any young man, I would say to him, 
try to frequent the company of your betters. In books and in 
life, that is the most wholesome society: learn to admire rightly; 
the great pleasure of life is that. Note what great men admire; 
they admire great things: narrow spirits admire basely, and 
worship meanly. — W. M. Thackeray. 

Friendship! mysterious cement of the Soul! 

Sweet’ner of Life, and solder of Society! 

I owe thee much. — Blair. 

He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare, 
And he who has one enemy shall meet him everywhere. 

— Ali Ben Abu Taleb. 


310 


SUCCESS. 


Not e’en the tenderest heart and next our own, 

Knows half the reasons why we smile or sigh. — Keble. 

There’s a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told, 
When two, that are linked in one heavenly tie, 

With heart never changing, and brow never cold, 

Love on thro’ all ills, and love on till they die. 

One hour of a passion so sacred is worth 

Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss. — Moore. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


IDEALS. 


There is always the need for a man to go higher, if he has the capac¬ 
ity to go.— Beecher. 

Endeavor to be first in thy calling, whatever it may be; neither let 
any one go before thee in well-doing; nevertheless, do not envy the 
merits of another, but improve thine own talents.— Robert Dodsley. 

One contented with what he has done, stands but small chance of 
becoming famous for what he will do. He has lain down to die. The 
grass is already growing over him. — Bovee. 

He who comes up to his own idea of greatness, must always have 
had a very low standard of it in his mind. — Hazlitt. 

Those who are quite satisfied, sit still and do nothing; those who 
are not quite satisfied, are the sole benefactors of the world. — W. S. 
Landor. 

What is man, 

If his chief good, and market of his time, 

Be but to sleep and feed ? A beast, no more. — Shakespeare. 

Mature your mind with great thoughts. To believe in the heroic 
makes heroes. — Disraeli. 

No life 

Can be pure in its purpose and strong in its strife, 

And all life not be purer and stronger thereby. — Owen Meredith. 

“The youth who does not look up, will look down; and the spirit 
that does not soar, is destined, perhaps, to grovel.” 

Unless above himself he can 
Erect himself, how poor a thing is man. — Daniel. 

Our only greatness is that we aspire. —Jean Ingelow. 

And oh, for a man to arise in me, 

That the man I am may cease to be! — Tennyson. 

Not failure, but low aim, is crime. — Lowell. 

“ Stranger,” said a Southwestern Yankee, scarred 
and weather-pitted, lean and wiry, addressing a 
slender, smooth-faced, nervous youth, quick of motion 
and clear of eye, who had turned out, day after day 
for a month, more “piece-work ” than any other man 
in a large rubber factory; “ stranger, mought I ask 

311 


312 


SUCCESS. 


what’s yer puppus in drivin’ so, and beatin’ all the 
rest ? ” 

“So you think my rapid work shows a special 
purpose?” asked the youth with a smile, although 
he knew that the proprietors had taken a large con¬ 
tract, and would pay each man in proportion to the 
number of pieces he made. 

“ Sartin, I do,” replied the Westerner. “ The 
mightier a man’s puppus, the smarter he is. That’s 
reason. An’ if it an’t bein’ too cur’ous I’d like to 
hev yer air yer puppus.” 

“I have indeed a mighty purpose,” replied the 
young man ; “ one that a lifetime of the hardest work 
cannot exhaust, — and yet I doubt if you would care 
to hear it.” 

“ I knowed it,” said the other; “ but go ahead, give 
it to us, I’m good for’t.” 

“ Did you ever know a man to die for a friend ? ” 

“ Wall, yes, I knowed a man in Arkansaw that 
took up another man’s fight an’ was killed.” 

“ Not in that way; but in cool blood to take 
another man’s place, to be hated, sneered at, and at 
last killed, all for the sake of a friend ? ” 

“ Can’t say as I ever did,” replied the Westerner, 
“ ’tan’t exactly natur, that an’t.” 

“ No, it isn’t very natural to man, yet a friend of 
mine, for years bore all the shame and reproach of 
my deeds. He was hated, threatened, mobbed. His 
very name became a reproach. Without a home, — 
with nothing but his innocence, he was at last put to 
death by those who hated him so. 


IDEALS. 


313 


“ One who was near him when he died,” continued 
the youth, “ wrote me a letter, and in it were the 
dying wishes of my friend. He said first that he 
forgave me everything, and that he loved me more 
than any other could love me.” 

“ He’d no need to say that after dyin’ for yer,” 
broke in the Westerner huskily. 

“ One thing he wished me to do. There were 
others whom he loved and who had wronged him. 
He wished me to go to them and beg them to accept 
his dying love and be reconciled to him. That is my 
purpose.” 

“ Stranger,” exclaimed the other impressively, 
“I don’t wonder that yer beat us all. I don’t 
know what yer done, that yer pardner should hev 
died for yer, but 1 do know that yer a lucky man 
to hev had such a friend. Don’t yer never go back 
on his memory, an’, — ef ’tan’t bein’ too cur’ous, — 
mought I ask his name ? ” 

“His name was Jesus Christ,” was the reverent 
reply. “The letter is here in the Bible, and with 
his help I am working here to get money to fit 
myself more thoroughly to tell men his dying mes¬ 
sage, and beg them to become reconciled to him.” 

There was no further time for talking, yet the 
young man felt that the other understood. The 
next day the Westerner was not in his place, and it 
was whispered that he had gone on a spree. He 
never came back. Three years later, says H. C. 
Pearson, from whose sketch this story is adapted, 
the young boot-maker, having finished his studies, 


314 


SUCCESS. 


was preaching in a store in the far West, when he 
noticed a tall, weather-beaten man, who entered and 
took a seat on a box. There was something familiar 
in his make-up, some suggestion of the past, which, 
however, did not explain itself until after the sermon, 
when he came forward, saying: “ Yer not the only 
man in this deestrict that’s got a puppus. I’ve read 
that letter many times, an’ in all sorts of places, 
since you brought it up to me. I’ve been down in 
the mines, an’ out among the Injuns, tellin’ the boys 
about it, an’ now I’m bound for Lower Californy. 
Give us a grip of your hand, pardner, an’ don’t for- 
git yer puppus.” 

The personal message of Christ, the grandest 
through all the centuries, is addressed to those who 
“hunger and thirst after righteousness”; in other 
words, to all who have “ a puppus,” — an ideal. 

I have read of a girl whose wonderful grace and 
purity of character charmed every one who knew her. 
One day a friend touched the spring of a little gold 
locket which she always wore on her neck, but which 
she would let no one see, and in it were these words: 
“ Whom having not seen, I love.” 

“ I have brought my boy to see if you can do any¬ 
thing with him,” said a parent, when the teacher 
answered his rap at the schoolhouse door. “ Of all 
stubborn boys I know, he is the worst.” The boy 
was seated and lessons were assigned him. Not long 
afterwards, as the teacher was going to his desk, he 
put out his hand to lay it kindly on the boy’s 
shoulder, whereupon the little fellow shuddered and 


IDEALS. 


315 


shrank away from the touch. “What is the mat¬ 
ter?’’ asked the teacher. “I thought you were 
going to strike me,” replied the pupil. “ Why should 
1 strike you ? ” “ Because I am so bad,” said the boy. 
“Who says you are bad?” “Father, mother, and 
everybody else say so.” “You can be just as good 
as any boy, if you try,” said the teacher kindly. 
“ Can I be a good boy ? ” asked the little fellow in 
surprise; “then I will be a good boy.” From that 
time his life changed. He made rapid progress in 
his studies, was almost faultless in deportment, and 
was soon a favorite with all. He became Governor 
of one of our largest states. 

The teacher had simply given the boy a new and 
higher ideal, and had inspired him with the con¬ 
fidence and aspiration necessary to attain it; but 
how it transformed a whole life! If we could ele¬ 
vate our ideals and increase our confidence, nearly 
all of us possess greater powers of attainment than 
we ever exert. 

“Soon after the late Horace Maynard entered 
Amherst College, he put on the door of his room a 
large letter Y. Its presence exposed him to ques¬ 
tions and ridicule; but, paying no attention to either, 
he kept the letter in its place. At the end of four 
years graduation day came, and Mr. Maynard was 
appointed to deliver the valedictory. After having 
received the compliments of the faculty and students 
for the honor he had received, Mr. Maynard called 
the attention of his fellow-graduates to the letter Y 
over the door of his room, and asked if they then 


316 


SUCCESS. 


understood what was meant by it. After short 
reflection, they answered, ‘Yes; valedictory/ He 
replied, ‘You are right/ His fellows then asked if 
he had the valedictory on his mind when he pasted 
the letter over his door. Mr. Maynard replied, 
‘ Assuredly I had/ ” 

Nothing so strengthens the mind and enlarges the 
manhood and widens the thought as the constant 
effort to measure up to a high ideal, to struggle after 
that which is beyond us and above us. It stretches 
the mind, as it were, to a larger measure, and touches 
the life to finer issues. 

Our longings are the prophecies of our destinies. 
Life never fulfills all the expectations of youth. 
The future never pays all that the present promises. 
Nature holds back part of our wages lest we quit 
work. The prophecy that we shall be immortal is 
written upon our desires and longings. 

There is always hope for the young man or young 
woman who has an affinity for the light; an upward 
aspiration like some trees which have such an innate 
longing for the sunlight, that they crowd past any¬ 
thing which impedes their progress, bending in their 
course around trees or any other obstruction, reach¬ 
ing up and up and up, until they get above the sur¬ 
rounding forest and bathe their proud heads in the 
bright free air. 

Elihu Burritt was ridiculed when he expressed 
among his ignorant and careless companions a de¬ 
termination to obtain an education. How could a 
poor boy, working nearly all the daylight in a black- 


IDEALS. 


317 


smith’s shop, get an education ? He had but one 
book, and lie carried that in his hat. But this boy 
with no chance, in a dirty blacksmith’s shop, became 
one of America’s wonders. His employer objected 
to his studying, fearing it would injure his work in 
the shop; but he soon found the boy could shoe a 
horse quicker and better for his increased intelli¬ 
gence. 

Professor Peabody at Harvard once said that the 
decision to be an educated man was itself one-half an 
education. 

If a poor boy once gets a thirst for an educa¬ 
tion, gets his ambition “ fired up,” it will carry him 
through. 

Did Garfield sit still and dream of the days when 
his ideal should be fulfilled ? If that had been his 
spirit and quality, he would have spent his whole 
life on the tow-path. But he labored persistently, 
studied hard, and “made things happen,” instead of 
“ waiting for something to turn up.” When he 
wanted to improve his education at the seminary, 
he cut wood for fifty days in order to make fifty 
dollars to meet the expense. When he desired still 
higher culture, he became bell-ringer and general 
sweeper at the institute, so that he might pay his 
way. And when he went at last to college he 
managed, by strenuous purpose and unflinching in¬ 
dustry, to do in three years what most men could 
hardly accomplish in six. A man like that can do 
anything. It was as easy for Garfield to be Presi¬ 
dent as to be mule-driver, — because he was always 


318 


SUCCESS. 


fitting himself for nobler service and more splendid 
achievement. He was a man of great dreams and 
lofty ideals, and he had the indomitable will which 
enabled him to realize and accomplish them. 

Margaret Fuller says: “Very early I perceived 
that the object of life is to grow.” Goethe said of 
Schiller: “If I did not see him for a fortnight, I 
was astonished to find what progress he had made in 
that interim.” We all know people who are always 
growing deeper, larger, broader. Every time we 
meet them, we feel that they are a little further on, 
a little higher up; that their thought is deeper, 
their experience broader, their comprehension larger. 
Such souls never cease to grow. It is onward and 
upward, from the cradle to the grave. 

Milton thought that he who would truly write a 
heroic poem must make his whole life a heroic poem. 
He says that his appetite for knowledge was so 
voracious, that from twelve years of age he hardly 
ever left his studies or went to bed before midnight. 

What could a young woman, alone and with a 
delicate constitution, do towards forming a world¬ 
wide organization which should be the most power¬ 
ful known for the suppression of intemperance and 
vice and the elevation of her race ? About all Miss 
Willard had was a heroic purpose. “ I have swung 
like a pendulum,” she says, “ through my years, with¬ 
out haste, without rest.” In ten thousand towns and 
cities, bands of women are at work to make liquor 
selling and liquor drinking hateful and disreputable, 
largely through Miss Willard’s efforts. It is well 


IDEALS. 


319 


known that she deprives herself of many comforts 
that she may never refuse those in actual want. 
Notwithstanding her naturally delicate constitution, 
her powers of industry are very great. She some¬ 
times has ten secretaries at work. 

In her letters in the Chautauquan to girls, “ How 
to Win,” she says: “ Keep to your specialty, whether 
it is raising turnips or tunes, painting screens or 
battle pieces, studying political economy or domestic 
recipes. Have in place of aimless reverie a resolute 
aim. 

“ The first grand object of my idle life was the 
purpose once lodged there by my life’s best friend, 
my mother, to have an education Miss Willard’s 
high aims have glorified her whole life. Still for 
her and those like her, in the words of Lowell,— 

“ Still, through our paltry stir and strife, 

Glows down the wished ideal, 

And longing molds in clay what life 
Carves in the marble real; 

To let the new life in, we know, 

Desire must ope the portal; 

Perhaps the longing to be so 
Helps make the soul immortal. 

“ Longing is God’s fresh heavenward will 
With our poor earthward striving; 

We quench it that we may be still 
Content with merely living; 

But, would we learn that heart’s full scope, 

Which we are hourly wronging, 

Our lives must climb from hope to hope, 

And realize the longing.” 


320 


SUCCESS. 


What a lesson is the life of this poor girl with a 
lofty ideal, for the thousands of boys and girls who 
long for nothing higher or nobler than an every-day 
existence in the narrow groove which they accept as 
their allotted place! 

“ According to my creed,” says a prominent writer, 
“a woman’s place is wherever circumstances beyond 
her control have located her. There are no circum¬ 
stances which can overthrow or circumvent the pas¬ 
sionate resolve of a noble, earnest soul.” 

While Turner, the great painter, was engaged upon 
one of his immortal works, a lady of rank, looking on, 
remarked : “ But, Mr. Turner, I do not see in nature 
all that you depict there.” “ Ah, madam,” replied 
the artist, “ do you not wish you could ? ” 

“Honor to the idealists, whether philosophers or 
poets,” says Chapin. “ They have improved us by 
mingling with our daily pursuits great and tran¬ 
scendent conceptions. They have thrown around 
our sensual life the grandeur of a better, and 
drawn us up from contacts with the temporal and 
the selfish to communion with beauty and truth 
and goodness.” 

“ A sculptor,” Tauler says somewhere, with a strik¬ 
ing range of mind for a monk of the fourteenth 
century, “ is said to have exclaimed indignantly on 
seeing a rude block of marble, ‘ What a god-like 
beauty thou liidest! ’ ” Thus God looks upon man, in 
whom His own image is hidden. 

“To what kingdom does this belong?” asked King 
Frederick of Prussia, as he held an orange before the 


IDEALS. 


321 


children in a school. “ To the vegetable kingdom,” 
replied one of the little girls. 

“And to what kingdom does this belong?” he 
asked, taking a piece of gold money from his pocket. 
“To the mineral kingdom,” replied the same girl. 

“ And to what kingdom do I belong, my child ? ” 
he continued, expecting for a reply, “To the animal 
kingdom.” But the little girl hesitated, thinking 
that it would not be proper to say that a king be¬ 
longed to the animal kingdom. “Well,” said the 
king at length, “ can you not answer that question, 
my little lady ? ” “ To the kingdom of Heaven, 

sire,” was the reply; and, with tears in his eyes, the 
king placed his hand upon her head, saying: “God 
grant that I may be found worthy of that kingdom! ” 
The little girl had taught the king to look at life in 
a new way. 

Yoltaire declared that he never wrote a single 
work that satisfied him. 

George Herbert said: “ Who aimeth at the sky, 
shoots higher much than he that meaneth a tree.” 

Infuse into the purpose with which you follow the 
various employments and professions of life, no mat¬ 
ter how humble they may be, this sense of beauty 
and harmony, and you are transformed at once from 
an artisan to an artist. The discontent you feel with 
the work you are compelled to do, comes from your 
doing it in the spirit of a drudge. Do it in the spirit 
of an artist, with a perception of the beauty which 
inheres in all honest work, and the drudgery will dis¬ 
appear in delight. It is the spirit in which we work, 


322 


SUCCESS. 


not the work itself, which lends dignity to labor; 
and many a field has been plowed, many a house 
has been built in a grander spirit than has sometimes 
attended the government of empires or the creation 
of epics. How few, even in this magnificent life- 
gallery, where nature holds perpetual carnival of 
harmony and beauty, see anything of value except 
dollars and merchandise. The farmer sees his bushel 
and his cart and nothing beyond, and sinks into the 
farmer, instead of the man on the farm. 

Life is not mean, it is grand; if it is mean to any, 
he makes it so. God made it glorious. Its stream 
is paved with diamonds; its banks He fringed with 
flowers. He overarched it with stars. Around it 
He spread the glory of the physical universe, — suns, 
moons, worlds, constellations, systems, — all that is 
magnificent in motion, sublime in magnitude, and 
grand in order and obedience. 

There are joys which long to be ours. God sends 
ten thousand truths which come about our souls like 
birds, seeking inlet; but we shut them out, and so 
they bring us nothing, but sit and sing awhile, and 
then fly away. 

Every action, well and cheerfully done, carries a 
sense of beauty with it. A letter well written and 
beautifully expressed, a lesson well learned, a piece 
of sewing perfectly done, in fact everything promptly 
and accurately accomplished, becomes a work of art 
and decorates the life. 

Unfortunately the standard of right, — the moral 
ideal with a great majority of men in business, — is 


IDEALS. 


323 


simply the public opinion about them. What others 
consider right, they think right also. 

Some of the most cruel acts done in the world’s 
history have been done by perfectly honest people, 
who were doing what they really believed to be 
right. Their ideals were low or mistaken. 

Historians tell us that there is scarcely a vice which 
has not in some age or country been approved by 
public opinion, and scarcely a virtue which has not 
been condemned. Suicide has been considered hon¬ 
orable in one age and felony in another. Thieves 
were rewarded in Sparta. 

Cotton Mather, who wrote a book on “Doing 
Good,” which had such an influence upon Dr. Frank¬ 
lin as to change his whole life, rejoiced when he saw 
seventeen persons hung in Salem for witchcraft. 

The Phoenicians burned their children alive from 
a sense of duty. Conscience, misdirected, has been 
the greatest tyrant in the world. 

A colonial Governor of the Bahamas, about to 
return to England, offered to procure from the home 
government any favor the natives desired. The 
reply was as startling as the request for the head of 
John the Baptist. “Tell them to tear down the 
lighthouses; they are ruining the prosperity of the 
colony.” The people were wreckers. 

The ideal determines the character of the life. 
Ambition without character must ever prove fatal 
to its possessor. There is not an exception in his¬ 
tory. 

A visitor, meeting the son of the great Mozart, 


324 


SUCCESS. 


said: “ I hope you take great pleasure in the piano 
or violin?” “ What do you take me for? I don’t 
love music; I am a banker, this is the music I like ” ; 
and he thrust his hands into a pile of gold, letting 
the precious pieces fall, jingling upon the counter. 

The passion for money brings out the native char¬ 
acter: in one young man it develops his industry, 
sagacity, thrift, foresight, prudence; while in another 
it develops just the opposite qualities, — scheming, 
cheating, lying, meanness, narrowness, reckless specu¬ 
lation. The love of money,—the manner of acquiring 
and spending, — is, perhaps, the best index of a man’s 
character. If he has noble, generous, manly quali¬ 
ties, they will come out in the way he gets his money 
and the way he uses it. If he has bad blood in him, 
if he is naturally mean, close, small, unscrupulous, 
dishonest, these characteristics will appear in all his 
transactions. 

Isn’t it a shame to see a bright, smart young man 
bending all his energies, working night and day, 
scheming to make money in some underhand way, 
in some questionable occupation, when his splendid 
abilities, fine physique, would enable him to be a 
great power as a good, square merchant or manu¬ 
facturer, or in some other useful occupation or pro¬ 
fession ? Has a young man a right to choose a low 
calling, when a higher is possible for him? Has he 
a right to dwarf his manhood, starve his brain, stunt 
his moral faculties in a low, mean pursuit, when a 
respectable one is open to him which would enlarge 
him, ennoble him, and make him useful to humanity ? 


IDEALS. 


325 


Toward what goal are our steps directed ? It is 
a vulgar and degrading ambition which endeavors 
simply to secure a “ respectable position in life.” 

God hides some ideal in every human soul. At 
some time in his life each feels a trembling, fearful 
longing to do some good thing. Life finds its noblest 
spring of excellence in this hidden impulse to do our 
best. 

Nothing will so save a man from self-consumption 
as a complete surrender to excellence, — to a lofty 
ideal. It is a burning zeal to get higher and higher 
in the scale of character, an ever-increasing thirst 
and enthusiasm for the best, — that will take nothing 
less, — that lifts life upon a plane worth living. 

Perhaps the biggest word in America to-day, the 
word which fills our newspapers and magazines, and 
which excites social rivalry,—a word which covers 
up crime and is an excuse everywhere for misde¬ 
meanor, the word which the American child is 
taught to lisp with reverence and worship almost 
from the cradle, the “ be all and end all ” of many a 
human life, the word which covers a multitude of 
sins, the word which is mentioned but once in the 
Bible (Joshua i. 8), — is “ Success.” 

Is it any wonder that our children start out with 
wrong ideals of life, with wrong standards of what 
constitutes success ? The child is urged “ to get on,” 
to “ rise in the world,” to “ make money,” etc. The 
youth is constantly told that “ nothing succeeds like 
success.” False standards are everywhere set up for 
him, and then he is blamed if he fails. 


326 


SUCCESS. 


Many an American boy’s model is the poor boy 
who can go to Chicago, or New York, or Boston 
without a penny, and die a millionaire. This to him 
is success; and why shouldn’t it be? He sees the 
whole world running after the millionaire, regard¬ 
less of who he is or how he got his money. No 
matter how he made it, spent it, or left it; few will 
ask whether he was rich in intellect, broad, beautiful, 
and noble in his life, or narrow, mean, avaricious, 
grasping,—if he left a million, he was a success. 
No matter if he ground the very life out of his 
employees; no matter if others grew poorer that he 
might become rich; no matter if he poisoned and 
lessened the value of every acre of land in his neigh¬ 
borhood ; no matter if his children were mentally and 
morally starved and his home wretched; if he left a 
million, he was a success. This is the philosophy of 
the street which the boy breathes in as he learns to 
talk. 

Don’t teach the young that “ success” in acquiring 
wealth or position is the only condition of happiness. 

Millions of bright boys and girls are destined to 
spend their lives in the constant service of others, — in 
helping the sick, the poor, the unfortunate, the help¬ 
less, — and practically they will never have an oppor¬ 
tunity to become either well educated or very rich. 
But they must not expect to be forever miserable 
unless they succeed according to the popular standard 
of success. Many a poor woman who spends her life 
in the sick room or in menial service, has reached a 
success infinitely higher than has many a millionaire. 


IDEALS. 


327 


American servants consider themselves under a 
temporary social misfortune from which they hope 
to extricate themselves. Think of an American boy 
starting out in life as thousands do in England, with 
an ambition to be a butler in a private family. 
English servants are a contented, satisfied, industri¬ 
ous, self-respecting class. But the national disease, 
ambition, has touched the life of every American 
almost before he leaves the cradle. Dreams of a 
place where drudgery and humiliation are unknown 
have poisoned his mind, and he seldom makes a good 
servant; his heart is not in his work, and it will be 
centuries probably before America can possibly have 
as efficient servants as England. The farther west 
we go, the more noticeable this becomes. 

Noble, brave, heroic men and women have lived 
who have resolved to carve out for themselves 
through opposing hills of difficulty and valleys of 
poverty and quagmires of discouragement, a straight, 
level, and solid road to success, usefulness, and final 
felicity; and they have done it. 

If the aim of a life be right, it cannot in detail be 
much amiss. It may indeed be imperfect, but it 
cannot be wholly wrong, and it cannot even partially 
be false. When the aim of a life is right, rules and 
precepts are merely subordinate; when the aim of 
a life is otherwise, rules and precepts are utterly 
worthless. 

“Ambition is the spur that makes man struggle 
with destiny. It is heaven’s own incentive to make 
purpose great and achievement greater.” 


328 


SUCCESS. 


After being some time at sea in the king’s service, 
Nelson formed a great dislike for naval routine. 
After a voyage of discovery toward the North Pole, 
and eighteen months more under the Indian sun, his 
health failed, and his spirit and ambition gave way. 
But, rallying himself, he exclaimed : “ I will be a 
hero • my king and my country shall be my patrons” 
From that moment stern resolution seized his soul, 
which never more lagged. The day before the bat¬ 
tle of the Nile, he said to the officers, “ By this time 
to-morrow I shall have gained a peerage or West¬ 
minster Abbey.” He was made a baron with a 
pension of two thousand pounds. Although mor¬ 
tally wounded at Trafalgar, he lived to hear the last 
guns fired at the fleeing enemy, and his dying words 
were: “ Thank God ! I have done my duty.” 

There is a spiritual hunger more imperative in its 
demands than physical hunger. How many men 
starve to death by being robbed of the food of 
others’ thoughts, of art food, of literature, of his¬ 
tory, etc.! . In how many persons is the aesthetic 
nature dead from lack of food in the growing period 
of life! 

If ambition is akin to pride, and therefore to folly, 
it is none the less a mighty spur to noble action, and 
where it is not found in youth, — budding and blos¬ 
soming like the trees in spring, — there will be no 
fruit in autumn. 

Ambitious people are the leaven which improves 
the world, provided the ambition be a good one. 
Wrong to be ambitious, forsooth? The men wrong 




PHILLIPS BROOKS. 

“ The thing we long for, that we are. 
“ Not failure but low aim is crime.” 
















IDEALS. 


329 


who, with bent back and sweating brow, cut the 
smooth road over which humanity marches forward 
from generation to generation ? 

The idealist is imaginative, hopeful, and abounding 
with life and energy. He sees visions and he dreams 
dreams, and he lives in a world of hopeful, happy 
forces that continually radiate new energy, — that 
generate it, indeed, and that kindle the coals on the 
altar. 

To him, at length, “ strong and sure as the Atlan¬ 
tic tides sweeping up the shore,” comes inspiration 
with all its “ hidings of power.” 

Bury a pebble, and it will obey the law of gravita¬ 
tion forever. Bury an acorn, and it will obey a 
higher law and grow. In the acorn is a vital force 
superior to the attraction of the earth. All plants and 
animals are climbing or reaching upward. Nature 
has whispered into the ear of all existence : “ Look 
up.” Man, above all, should have a celestial gravita¬ 
tion. 

“ The ideal life, the life of full completion, haunts 
us all,” says Phillips Brooks; “ we feel the thing we 
ought to be beating beneath the thing we are.” 

“An intense desire itself transforms possibility 
into reality. Our wishes are but prophecies of the 
things we are capable of performing.” 

“ Did you ever hear of a man who had striven all 
his life faithfully and singly toward an object,” 
asked Thoreau, “ and in no measure obtained it? If 
a man constantly aspires, is he not elevated ? Did 
ever a man try heroism, magnanimity, truth, sincerity, 


330 


SUCCESS. 


and find that there was no advantage in them, — 
that it was a vain endeavor ? ” 

Your aspiration will become inspiration, and you 
will push your work with a glad enthusiasm. Think 
you Angelo did not reach nobler results because he 
carved his own faith in forms of breathing marble, 
and painted it abroad in the glory of his frescoes ? 
Think you Hugh Miller read the story of the rocks 
less eagerly and carefully because he felt he was 
reading the thoughts of God written deep in the 
strata of the earth ? Think you Carey made poorer 
shoes because while he stitched and hammered at his 
cobbler’s bench the love of God made melody in his 
heart, and great schemes of missionary enterprise 
took shape in his mind ? The true service of God is 
so broad, so inspiring, so strong and pure in its 
motives that by it all life is lifted to a higher plane. 
Ho honest work is sordid when done for Him, and 
you have no force or faculty of hand or heart which 
will not find most powerful stimulus and freest play 
in doing His will. As Keble well says, 

“ There are in this rude, stunning tide 
Of human care and crime, 

With whom the melodies abide 
Of the everlasting chime, 

Who carry music in their heart 

Through dusky lane and wrangling mart; 

Plying their daily task with busier feet, 

Because their secret souls a holier strain repeat.” 

“ That boy tries to make himself useful,” said an 
employer of the errand boy, George W. Childs. It 


IDEALS. 


331 


is this trying to be useful and helpful that improves 
as well as promotes us. “We can’t afford to have 
you down here, you are worth too much, come up 
higher.” 

When the foreman in A. T. Stewart’s establish¬ 
ment died, the porter applied for the place. “ Why, 
you are only a porter,” said Stewart. “ I know it, 
but I have watched this business and I know its 
details and I can fill the position.” Stewart refused 
him. The porter obtained a position in another 
house and finally bought out the whole business. 

It is a most fatal error to regard the church as 
sacred, and to label the warehouse as secular. They 
are both sacred. Work done in a Christ-like spirit is 
dignified and ennobled until it becomes divine. 

Bishop Spaulding says: “ The final thought in all 
work is that we work not to have more, but to be 
more; not for higher place, but for greater worth; 
not for fame, but for knowledge. This is the Chris¬ 
tian touch which has transformed the world.” 

Michael Angelo one day went into the studio of 
Raphael when the artist was not in. He saw on the 
canvas a beautiful design, a human figure in grace¬ 
ful attitude, but disproportionately small. He slyly 
seized a brush, and faintly wrote underneath one 
word, — amjplius , that is, “larger.” 

“Have an ambition to be remembered,” said 
Charles Sumner, “not as a great lawyer, doctor, 
merchant, scientist, manufacturer, or scholar, but as 
a great man, every inch a king.” 

We must look upward or die. 


332 


SUCCESS. 


Ancient or mediaeval art was superior to modern 
because the ideal was higher. Ancient artists dealt 
with religious subjects, — the highest conceptions 
possible to man, while modern art is profane. Long¬ 
fellow once gave to his pupils this motto: “ Live up 
to the best that is in you.” 

Unnatural and inordinate ambition, encouraged 
in this land of opportunity, renders many a life 
miserable, and totally unfits it for true usefulness. 

Do not strive to reach impossible goals. It is 
wholly in your power to develop yourself, but not 
necessarily so to make yourself a king. Too many 
are deluded by ambition beyond their power of 
attainment, or tortured by aspirations totally dis¬ 
proportionate to their capacity for execution. You 
may, indeed, confidently hope to become eminent in 
usefulness and power, but only as you build upon a 
broad foundation of self-culture. 

On the other hand, do not choose a frivolous object 
for your ambition, like the Empress Anne of Russia, 
who assembled the men of genius of her empire to 
construct a palace of snow. 

“The situation that has not its duty, its ideal,” 
says Carlyle, “ was never yet occupied by man. Yes, 
here, in this poor, miserable, hampered, despicable, 
actual, wherein thou even now standest, here or 
nowhere is thy ideal: work it out therefrom, and, 
working, believe, live, be free. Fool! the ideal is in 
thyself.” 

There is a poem that is an apt illustration of this 
power of creating our own success or failure. In 


IDEALS. 


333 


musical cadences, it tells of the sculptor who stood 
before the block of uncut marble with his chisel in 
his hand, and with a glorious ideal in his thought 
which he was determined to carve out of the stone. 
Day after day he toiled patiently on. Slowly it grew 
into the thing of beauty of w r hich he had dreamed. 
Sometimes the tool with which he worked slipped, 
and the toil of days would seem undone, but still he 
wrought until, at length, his vision was fashioned 
into a reality. 

But “ there is a better thing than realizing the 
ideal, — it is to idealize the real.” 

Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, 

Or what is heaven for ? — Robert Browning. 

From the polyp to the saint, it is said, there is a 
perpetual striving, — a divine dissatisfaction. 

Dr. Collyer says that Darwin’s suggestion as to 
the evolution of the eagle’s wings is an instructive 
one. The desire to ascend was there before the 
wings, and through countless ages of development 
the process of formation and adaptation went on, 
until at length, with mighty pinions, seven feet 
from tip to tip, the eagle soared aloft toward the 
sun. Of us it may be said that every well-meant 
trial and intention is part of a great process; each 
starts some feather in the eagle’s wing. 

The noblest character would soon degenerate, if it 
should lose the love of excellence. This is the main¬ 
spring of all great character. This passion for ex¬ 
cellence is the voice of God, bidding us up and on, 


334 


SUCCESS. 


lest we forget our divine origin and degenerate to 
barbarism again. This principle is the guardian of 
the human race. It is God’s voice in man ; it is the 
still small voice that whispers “right” or “wrong” 
to every act; it is the gem which the Creator dropped 
into the dust when he fashioned us in his own image. 

Thorwaldsen, being asked whether anything was 
distressing him, answered, “My genius is decaying.” 
“What do you mean?” said the visitor. “Why, 
here is my statue of Christ; it is the first of my 
works I have ever felt satisfied with. Till now, my 
ideal has always been far beyond what I could 
execute. But it is no longer so. I shall never have 
a great ideal again.” 

“ The more thorough a man’s education is,” says 
Beecher, “ the more he yearns for and is pushed for¬ 
ward to new achievement. The better a man is in 
the world, the better he is compelled to be. That 
bold youth who climbed up the Natural Bridge, in 
Virginia, and carved his name higher than any other, 
found, when he had done so, that it was impossible 
for him to descend, and that his only alternative was 
to go on and scale the height, and find safety at the 
top. Thus it is with all climbing in this life. There 
is no going down. It is climbing or falling.” God 
has whispered into the ear of all creation, “Look 
up! ” 

Friend, go up higher. — Luke xiv. 10. 

“Higher! It is a word of noble import,” says a 
modern teacher. “ It lifts the soul of man from low 
and groveling pursuits, to the achievement of great 


IDEALS. 


335 


and noble deeds, and ever keeps the object of its 
aspiration in view, till his most sanguine expectations 
are fully realized. 

“ Higher! lisps the infant that clasps its parent’s 
knee, and makes its feeble effort to rise. It is the first 
inspiration of childhood to burst the narrow confines 
of the cradle, and to exercise those tottering limbs 
which are to walk forth in the stateliness of manhood. 

“ Higher! echoes the proud schoolboy as he climbs 
the tallest tree of the forest, that he may look down 
upon his less adventurous comrades with a flush of 
exultation, — and abroad over the fields, the mead¬ 
ows, and his native village. 

“ Higher! earnestly breathes the student of phi¬ 
losophy and nature. lie has a host of rivals; but he 
must excel them all. The midnight oil burns dim; 
but he finds light and knowledge in the lamps of 
heaven, and his soul is never weary even when the 
last of them is hid by the splendors of the morning. 

“ And higher ! his voice thunders forth, when the 
dignity of manhood has mantled his form, and the 
multitude is listening with delight to his oracles, 
burning with eloquence, and ringing like true steel 
in the cause of freedom and right. And when time 
has changed his locks to silver, — when the young 
and the old unite to do him honor, he still breathes 
forth from his generous heart fond wishes for their 
welfare. 

“Higher yet! He has reached the apex of 
earthly honor; yet his spirit burns as warm as in 
youth, though with a steadier and paler light. 


336 


SUCCESS. 


And even now, while his frail tenement begins to 
admonish him, that ‘ the time of his departure is at 
hand,’ he looks forward, with rapturous anticipa¬ 
tion, to the never-fading glory, attainable only in 
the presence of the Most High.” 

To grow higher, deeper, wider, as the years go on ; 
to conquer difficulties, and acquire more and more 
power; to feel all one’s faculties unfolding, and 
truth descending into the soul, — this makes life 
worth living. 

The rapture which ravished Mozart’s soul, the sym¬ 
phonies which wandered through the corridors of his 
mind, were never heard by mortal ear. What he 
actually put on paper was but a faint echo of the 
mighty harmony in his soul. 

“ I wonder if ever a song was sung, 

But the singer’s heart sang sweeter! 

I wonder if ever a hymn was rung, 

But the thought surpassed the meter ! 

I wonder if ever a sculptor wrought, 

Till the cold stone echoed his ardent thought! 

Or if ever a painter, with light and shade, 

The dream of his inmost heart portrayed! ” 

A sacred burden is this life ye bear, 

Look on it, lift it, bear it solemnly, 

Stand up and walk beneath it steadfastly, 

Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin, 

But onward, upward, till the goal ye win. 

— Frances Anne Kemble. 

So should we live that every hour 
May die as dies the natural flower, 

A self-reviving thing of power. — Lord Houghton. 


IDEALS. 


337 


Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, 
whatsoever things are just, whatsoever tilings are pure, what¬ 
soever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; 
if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these 
things. — St. Paul. % 

This moment, if you bend to catch the word, 

A nobler thing than man has ever said 
Along the currents of God’s thought is sped, 

And he who speaks it bravely must be heard. 

This hour a grander work awaits your hand 
Than any written in the treasured past; 

Lay to the oar! The tide runs fast — runs fast — 
Life’s possibilities are yet unspanned. 

— Annie L. Muzzey. 

Oh, laggard soul! unclose thine eyes — 

No more in luxury soft 
Of joy ideal waste thyself ; 

Awake, and soar aloft! 

Unfurl this hour those falcon wings, 

Which thou dost fold too long; 

Raise to the skies thy lightning gaze, 

And sing thy loftiest song ! — Frances S. Osgood. 

I count this thing to be grandly true; 

That a noble deed is a step towards God — 

Lifting the soul from the common clod 
To a purer air and a broader view. — J. G. Holland. 

Build thee more stately mansions, 

O my soul! 

As the swift seasons roll, 

Leave thy low vaulted past! 

Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 

Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, 
z 


338 


IDEALS. 


Till thou at length art free, 

Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s unresting sea. 

— Holmes. 

Too low they build, who build beneath the stars. — Young. 

Up! higher yet, and higher, 

Ever nigher, ever nigher, 

Thro’ voids that Milton and the rest beat still with seraph- 
wings ; 

Out thro’ the great gate creeping 
Where God hath put his sleeping — 

A dewy cloud detaining not the soul that soars and sings, 

Up ! higher yet, and higher, 

Fainting nor retreating, 

Beyond the sun, beyond the stars, to the far bright realm of 
meeting! — Robert Buchanan. 

Oh, may I join the choir invisible 
Of those immortal dead who live again 
In minds made better by their presence; live 
In pulses stirred to generosity, 

In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn 
For miserable aims that end with self, 

In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, 

And with their mild persistence urge man’s search 
To vaster issues. — George Eliot. 


INDEX. 


A. 

Abernethy, his gruffness, 225. 

Accomplishment, one; ten thou¬ 
sand dollars for, paid to Vander¬ 
bilt’s cook, 272. 

Accuracy, superiority of Germans 
over Americans in, 132. 

Actions, have tongues; Lord Clar¬ 
endon on, 292; cheerful, carry 
beauty, 322; cruel, done by people 
of low ideals, 323. 

Adams, John, failed at shoemak¬ 
ing, 99. 

Adams, John Q., great son of a 
great man, 150. 

Agassiz, Louis, had no time for 
money-making, 267. 

Aim, fixed; contagion of, 268; 
right, helps make a right life, 327. 

Alexander of Russia, compliments 
Napoleon, 228. 

Ambition, is fatal without char¬ 
acter, 323; a national disease of 
America, 327; a spur, 327, 328. 

Ambrose, St., on rarity of a faith¬ 
ful friend, 308. 

Angelo, Michael, breaks his 
“Moses,” 26; his thoroughness, 
121; learned fresco painting 
alone and painted Sistine Chapel, 
193; cold mannered, 223; criti¬ 
cised Raphael’s design, 331. 

Anne, Empress of Austria; her 
snow palace, 332. 

Application, steadfast, made suc¬ 
cessful men of Bentley and 
Priestley, 274. 


Arc, Joan of; her enthusiasm 
thrilled French army, 22. 

Architecture, Athenian, thorough¬ 
ness of, 121. 

Arkwright, Richard, began school 
at twenty, 148. 

Art, ancient excels modern, be¬ 
cause of higher ideal, 332. 

Aspiration, 316; Tlioreau on, 329, 
330. 

Associates, bad; poison the char¬ 
acter of youth, 290. 

Astor, John J., his wealth, 85. 

Augustine, St., on friends, 308. 

Avarice, Henry W. Beecher on, 86. 

B. 

Bach, his blindness, 52. 

Ball, Thomas, great sculptor, swept 
theaters when a boy, 148. 

Balzac, his thoroughness, 122. 

Bancroft, Allen, noble cabin-boy, 
237-241. 

Barnum, P. T., tried fourteen dif¬ 
ferent occupations, 97; poverty 
to success, 143; temperance lec¬ 
tures, 146. 

Beecher, H. W., on riches, 85; on 
pride and vanity, 86; on taste, 
love, and religion-seeking wealth, 
87; on influence of character, 
248; on the yearning for achieve¬ 
ment, 334. 

Bibles, scarcity of, after French 
Revolution, 261. 

Biography, inspiration of, 153. 

Bismarck, presence of mind saves 


339 



340 


INDEX. 


friend, 141; his great aim — 
German unity, 270. 

Bonaparte, his resolution, 277. 

Bon Marche, model establishment, 
noted for its courtesy, 221. 

Books, influence of dime novel, 
252, 256; German and French, 
256; scarcity of, before fifteenth 
century, 260; influence of, 262; 
cheap, 262; choice of, 262; Ruskin 
on, 262; Theodore Parker on, 264. 

Bootblack, New York; his enthu¬ 
siasm, 20. 

Brooks, Phillips, his tremendous 
earnestness, 31; his generosity, 
219, 298; on the ideal life, 329. 

Brougham, his genius, 155. 

Browning, Mrs., on Charles Kings¬ 
ley’s secret of life, 294. 

Buffon, his “ Studies of Nature ” ; 
took fifty years to complete, 122. 

Bull, Ole, love of music, 28; his 
new violin, 95; wins fame sud¬ 
denly, 97. 

Bunyan, John, determination to 
surmount obstacles, 146. 

Burritt, Elihu, learned forty lan¬ 
guages while a blacksmith, 149; 
his increased education an aid in 
his occupation, 316. 

4 

c. 

Cabin-boy, his firmness, 237; his 
story, 240. 

Campbell, Lord, his industry and 
perseverance, 154. 

Career, hints on choice of, 107. 

Carey, Dr., owed everything to 
plodding, 156. 

Carlyle, on Rousseau’s “ Emile,” 
257; on man without purpose, 
278; on ideals, 332. 

Carnegie, Andrew, tried to form 
good habits early, 267. 

Carnot, President, his military 
genius, 22. 


Character, within reach of all, 92; 
is wealth, 92; make deep foun¬ 
dation for, 125; expresses itself 
in dress, 232; -building, 237-251; 
great desideratum of life, 243, 
298; Rousseau on, 245. 

Chatham, Lord, his iron will; ‘‘I 
trample upon impossibilities,” 
180. 

Childs, George W., his usefulness 
as errand boy brought promo¬ 
tion, 330. 

Chinese student, his success under 
difficulties, 33. 

Cicero, on friendship, 302. 

Clay, Henry, oblivious of all but 
his subject, 24; public life of, 178. 

Clerk, hotel; model of politeness 
and cordiality, 222. 

Cobbett, William, his early struggle 
with poverty, 38. 

College education, possibility of 
obtaining a, 63-68; cost of to 
some, 149. 

College men, a remarkable group 
of, 62. 

Collyer, Rev. Dr., on Darwin’s 
theory of evolution, 333. 

Columbus, Christopher, carried 
home in chains, 193; his unsocia¬ 
bility, 223. 

Common sense, the best guide, 138. 

Companions, 288-309; influence of, 
262, 288, 289; George Eliot on, 
289; Emerson on, Burke on, 
291; great men influenced by, 
— Haydn, Gomez, Northcote, 
293; all are known by, 302; 
Faraday on, 306. 

Concentration, 268; the secret of 
success, 285. 

Conscience, 241; misdirected, 323. 

Cook, Captain, started as cabin- 
boy, 166. 

Cooper, Peter, took nine years to 
find his bent, 100; secret of his 
success, 280. 



INDEX. 


341 


Corning, Erastus, mistaken by 
conductor, 208. 

Cornell, Charles, his thoroughness, 
118. 

Courtesy, important in monetary 
success, 200; English, 210; of a 
child, 229. 

Cranks, Robert J. Burdette on, 
17. 

Crime, rarely committed by man 
in his right place, 109. 

Cromwell, Oliver, quiet and courte¬ 
ous, 228. 

Culture, built upon broad founda¬ 
tion, 332. 

D. 

Darling, Grace, her heroism, 155. 

Deeds, real tests of men, 245. 

Delmonico, explanation of his 
success, 272. 

Dickens, howhis characters haunted 
him, 27; his love of books, 258. 

Disraeli, difficulty of gaining his 
one object, the office of Prime 
Minister of England, — his per¬ 
sistence, 270, 271. 

Dollars, verses on, 82. 

Douglas, Stephen A., his career, 
202; on Lincoln, 246. 

Douglass, Frederick, tells of his 
early struggles, 37; his early 
education, 259; said Lincoln was 
first polite white man he knew, 
230. 

Dress, 233; Pope on, 233; impor¬ 
tance of, 234. 

Drummer-boy, his enthusiasm, 
11-15. 

Drummond, Henry, on friends, 
302. 

Dutchman, Washington Irving tells 
of a, preparing to leap ditch, 
138. 

Duty, Lamartine’s saying on, 241; 
the end and aim of life, 241. 


E. 

Easterbrook, a model hotel clerk, 

222 . 

Edward, the Black Prince, his fine 
manners, 230. 

Edwards, Tryon, on books, 265. 

Elevators, none in life, all climb¬ 
ing, 142. 

Eliot, George, on companions, 289. 

Emanuel, Victor, his character, 243. 

Emerson, on wealth, 73; on thor¬ 
oughness, 113; on resolution, 175; 
on character, 248; on Napoleon, 
278. 

Energy, defined, 281, 282. 

English, disagreeable manners of 
the, 231. 

Enthusiasm, 11-31; what it has ac¬ 
complished, 19; don’t be afraid 
of, 25; remarkable example of 
30. 

Enthusiasts, famous, 15-24. 

Epitaph, on child’s tombstone, 299. 

Erskine, Thomas, conquered great 
obstacles, 49. 

Etiquette, Chinese, 206. 

Evarts, William M., committed 
Greek testament to memory, 12(5. 

Evolution, Rev. Dr. Collyer on, 333. 

Excellence, the passion for, 333. 

F. 

Face, the bulletin board of the 
soul, 292. 

Failures, Freeman Hunt on, 281. 

Familiarity, 306. 

Faraday, Michael, on companions, 
306. 

Fawcett, Henry, successful, though 
blind, 39. 

Feltham, on parting of friends, 
308. 

Ferguson, James, his fight for 
knowledge, 45; constructs a 
wooden watch, 47. 




342 


INDEX. 


Field, Cyrus W., his hard struggle 
before success of Atlantic cable, 
271. 

Fox, Chas. J., early defects in 
character of, remedied by influ¬ 
ence of Edmund Burke, 290. 

Fox, Zachariah, succeeded by 
“ dealing in civility,” 202. 

Franklin, Benj., on knowledge, 63; 
his dislike of his early occupation 
helps him to his place, 100; on 
luxury of a penny roll, 166; goes 
home in disguise, 216-218; man¬ 
ners of, 232; his life and words 
a precious legacy, 283. 

Frederick the Great, life of, shows 
persistent will, 178; his kindness, 
229. 

Frederick, King of Prussia, ques¬ 
tioning child about the king¬ 
doms, 320. 

Friends, comfort of having, 301; 
Drummond on, 302, 306; St. 
Augustine on, 308; St. Ambrose 
on, 308; Feltham on parting of, 
308. 

Friendship, 296; Margaret Fuller 
on, 296, 297; quotation from 
“ Dombey and Son,” 299; Geikie 
on, 299; of David and Jonathan, 
St. Paul and Timothy, Beaumont 
and Fletcher, Milton and Lycidas, 
Gray and West, Damon and 
Pythias, Coleridge and Gilman, 
Southey and Winne, 300; rarity 
of true, 306, 307. 

Fuller, Margaret, on the object of 
life, 318. 

G. 

Galileo, left study of medicine for 
philosophy, 98. 

Garfield, James A., cut wood to pay 
schooling, 55; presented with 
ten thousand dollars, 78; his 
high esteem for Dr. Johns Hop¬ 


kins, 308; his lofty ideals and 
indomitable will, 317. 

Garibaldi, his courtesy, 213. 

Geikie, Cunningham, on friend¬ 
ship, 299; on misconduct, 242. 

Gladstone, taught his children 
thoroughness, 137; his faculty 
of skimming best thoughts of 
books, 137; his courtesy, 228; 
visits crossing-sweeper, 244; 
books which influenced him, 
257. 

Goethe, his courtesy, 228; on 
Schiller’s progress, 318. 

Goodness, Dr. Mozley on, 307. 

Gordon, Rev. Dr. G. A., his strug¬ 
gles, 57. 

Gough, John B., his regret at early 
associations, 304. 

Gould, Jay, his first quarter, 81; a 
slave to his wealth, 83; failed in 
four occupations, 103. 

Grant, Ulysses S., a dull scholar, 
156; early life and later achieve¬ 
ments of, 157, 158; graduated 
low in class from West Point, 
158; returns to old homestead, 
179, 180; steadfast application 
of, 274; receives letter from Gen. 
Rawlins regarding his drinking, 
294-296. 

Greeley, Horace, on enthusiasm, 30. 

Green, Hetty, janitor of Stewart 
building mistakes her for book 
agent, 201. 

Greene, Gen., most polite man in 
Revolution, 227. 

Growth, onward and upward, 318. 

H. 

Habit, power of, 135, 136, 220. 

Hamilton, Bishop of Salisbury, 
influenced by Gladstone, 293. 

Handel, his blindness, 52. 

Harper & Brothers, their brotherly 
business relations, 301. 



INDEX. 


343 


Haydn, his courtesy, 227. 

Hayes, R. B., his advice to Mc¬ 
Kinley on success and fame, 
275. 

Hazlitt, stuck wafers on his fore¬ 
head when composing, 275. 

Henry, Patrick, his enthusiasm, 24. 

Herbert, George, his courtesy, 213; 
on high aim, 321. 

Herschel, William and Caroline, 
their success under difficulties; 
their will, 184-187. 

Higinbotham, George, his civility, 
203. 

Hobson, from tailor’s apprentice 
to Admiral, 101. 

Holland, engineer who helped save 
it, 181. 

Honesty, of little slave, 250. 

Hopkins, Johns, his mission from 
God, 279; his philanthropy, 280. 

Howe, Julia Ward, on worship of 
wealth, 88. 

Howells, W. D., on Longfellow, 219. 

Humbert, King of Italy, his char¬ 
acter, 244. 

Hunt, Freeman, on failures, 281. 

Huxley, on love of knowledge, 30. 

I. 

Ideals, 311-338 ; high, of young 
girl with locket, 314; the struggle 
for what is above us, 316 ; de¬ 
termine character of life, 323; 
choose high, 324; God hides in 
every soul, 325; lofty, 325; of 
English servants, only to be but¬ 
lers, etc., 327; Carlyle on, 332; 
higher, 334-336; poems on, 336- 
338. 

Idealists, Chapin on, 320, 329. 

Immortality, the prophecy of, 
written upon our desires, 316. 

Industry, illustrated by mill girls, 
53. 

Influence, results of, 304. 


Irving, Washington, buying car¬ 
riage, 204. 

J. 

Jackson, Andrew, George Lippard 
on, 174. 

Jefferson, Thomas, hotel keeper 
wouldn’t give him a room, 206. 

Jews, their wonderful accumula¬ 
tion of wealth, 276. 

Johnson, Samuel, on civility, 219. 

Jones, Sir William, his eulogy on 
the Bible, 263. 

K. 

Keller, Helen, her wonderful ac¬ 
complishments, 40. 

Kindness, effect of, on stubborn 
boy who afterward became a 
Governor, 314. 

Kossuth, Louis, influence of his 
character, 243. 

L. 

Labor, surer than luck, 151. 

Lamb, Charles, his comment on 
Coleridge, 279. 

Larcom, Lucy, studied while work¬ 
ing in factory, 54. 

Larks, intelligent; story of, 140. 

Lee, Dr., Hebrew professor, his 
resolution to win rewarded, 52. 

Lee, Robert E., his politeness, 204. 

Life, make most of, 162, 163; the 
finest art, 247; a heroic, more 
eloquent than sermons, 292 ; 
never fulfills expectations of 
youth, 316; the ideal, Phillips 
Brooks on, 329; its grandeur, 
322; must be all climbing, no 
descending, 334. 

Lincoln, Abraham, his love of 
books, 48, 258; regrets scanty 
education, 62; his estimate of 
wealth, 77 ; earns two silver 



344 


II DEX. 


dollars, 81; his kindness to a littl 
girl, 211; his steadfast applica 
tion, 274; had many friends, 301. 

Literature, current; doubtful in¬ 
fluence of, 264. 

Livingstone, David, famous Afri¬ 
can missionary, 101; searching 
expedition for, 272. 

Locke, John, jots down conversa¬ 
tion of noted Englishmen play¬ 
ing cards, 294. 

Longfellow says, “Live up to the 
best that is in you,” 332. 

Longings, our; are prophecies of 
our destinies, 316. 

Lowell, James R., on true worth, 
243; quotation from his poem on 
ideals, 319. 

Lytton, E. B., on politeness, 213; 
on apologies, 236. 

M. 

Macaulay, Thomas B., his accuracy 
in reading, 127; on literature, 
265 ; his steadfast application, 
274. 

Madison, James, his courtesy, 228. 

Magnetism, illustration of, 305. 

Man, a creature of circumstances, 
105; wanted, a, 166, 167; should 
have a celestial gravitation, 329. 

Mann, Horace, his early struggles, 
58. 

Manners, importance of, 201; law 
of, 214; of foreigners, 230; St. 
Paul on, 232; test of, 234, 235. 

Martineau, Harriet, read con¬ 
stantly for self-improvement, 
54. 

Mather, Cotton; influence on Dr. 
Franklin, of his “Doing Good,” 
323. 

Mathews, on money-making genius, 
73. 

Maynard, Horace, his determina¬ 
tion to be valedictorian, 315. 


McConaughy, on influence of tent- 

mates, 302. 

McDonough, his steadfast applica¬ 
tion, 277. 

McKinley, William, his specialty, 
— the tariff, 276. 

Midas, King, his love of gold, 
84. 

Mill, John Stuart, on character and 
will, 190. 

Millet, John, inspired to art by 
Bible pictures, 123; “Angelus ” 
sold for one hundred and twenty- 
five thousand dollars, 124. 

Milton, on weakness of wickedness, 
319; his life-long love of know¬ 
ledge, 318. 

Mind, the; Daniel Wise on, 165; 
power of, over body, Napoleon’s 
belief in, 177; triumph of, over 
body, in case of consumptives, 
188, 189 ; Campanella, example 
of, 190. 

Misconduct, Geikie on, 242. 

Model, of American boys, — those 
who succeed under difficulties, 
326. 

Mohammed, a man with an idea, 
his success under difficulties, 269. 

Mohammedanism, 263. 

Money, advantages of, 80, 82; the 
first dollar, 81; an indication of 
character, 82; passion for, brings 
out character, 324. 

Monroe, James, a gentleman of the 
old school, 227. 

Montague, Lady, on civility, 212. 

Morse, Samuel F. B., his thorough¬ 
ness, 116. 

Mottoes, on uses of gold, 93; on an 
ancient crest, 146; “I will” and 
“ God help me,” 195, 196. 

Mozart, his death, 26 ; first 
composition at six years, 50; 
faultless composition, 51 ; his 
compositions but an echo of his 
inspiration, 336. 




INDEX. 


345 


Mozart’s son, a banker; had no 
love for music, 324. 

Mozley, Dr., on goodness, 307. 

Murillo, won success by courage 
and determination, 57. 

N. 

Napoleon, conquered Italy at 
twenty-five, 22; his indomitable 
will and self-mastery, 176, 278. 

Natural Bridge, boy who climbed, 
had to ascend, not descend, for 
safety, 334. 

Nelson, Horatio, his resolution to 
be a hero, 328. 

Newspapers, Kent’s advice on, 
James Ellis on, F. B. Sanborn 
on, 261. 

O. 

Observation, experiment for the 
cultivation of, 134. 

Occupation, your; be in harmony 
with, 104; be a master of, 106. 

Occupations, misfit; Turner, as a 
barber; Lorraine, as a pastry¬ 
cook, 103; different names for, 
103. 

Opportunity, necessity of, 192. 

P. 

Palissy, succeeded by his great 
enthusiasm, 17; his purpose, 
268. 

Parker, Theodore, on books, 264. 

Parrots, two, bad result of inti¬ 
macy of, 289. 

Paul, St., advice on reading, 259; 
his enthusiasm, 16. 

Peabody, Professor, on determi¬ 
nation to be educated, 317. 

Penn, William, his kindness, 228. 

Perry, Oliver H., commanding in 
battle of Lake Erie, 168; his vic¬ 
tory, 174. 


Persistence, 266-287; of James A. 
Garfield, 317. 

Phoenicians, the, thought it a duty 
to burn children alive, 323. 

Politeness, inspiration of, 227. 

Porter, Mr., late Old Colony R. R. 
conductor, his politeness and 
geniality, 230. 

Poverty, a crime under law of 
Henry VIII., 75. 

Pride, H. W. Beecher on, 86. 

Proverb, Spanish, 305. 

Punning, beware of perpetual, 230. 

Purpose, a resolute; power of, il¬ 
lustrated, 53; necessity of, 267; 
definite, 286; man with a “pup- 
pus,” 311. 

Pythagoras, his strictness regard¬ 
ing associates, 292. 

Q. 

Quixote, Don, thought too much 
of chivalry, 279. 

R. 

Raphael, his enthusiasm, 19; his 
“ Sistine Madonna,” 30. 

Reading, always make notes on, 
264. 

Recamier, Madame, her courtesy 
and winning manners, 214. 

Regulus, his noble character, 242. 

Religion, real, qualities of, 245. 

Resolution, might of, 183. 

Reynolds, Joshua, on labor and 
genius, 155; on application, 279. 

Riches, H. W. Beecher on, 85. 

Richter, Jean Paul, his struggle 
with, and triumph over, poverty, 
59. 

Right, the standard of, 322. 

Rothschild, the modern Croesus, 
70. 

Rousseau, on character, 245. 

Ruskin, on books, 262. 





346 


INDEX. 


S. 

Salvini, on earnestness, 25. 

Savonarola, his character and 
preaching, 249. 

Scott, Walter, his earnest applica¬ 
tion, 284. 

Self-culture, the source of all 
achievement, 165. 

Self-educated men, a remarkable 
group of, 62. 

Self-help, illustrated by mill girls, 
53; illustrated by narrative, 140, 
141; fable of Jupiter and the 
teamster, 142; minister who 
couldn’t swim drowned from 
lack of, 143; necessity and ac¬ 
complishments of, 164. 

Servants, English ; contented and 
self-respecting, they excel am¬ 
bitious American help, 327. 

Service, lowly; sometimes the 
greatest success, 326. 

Shiftlessness, mental; cause of 
many failures, 279. 

Society, fine; recipe for, 89. 

Spaulding, Bishop, on the object 
of work, 331. 

Spelling, poor; disadvantage of, 
131, 134. 

Spiritual hunger, 328. 

Splugen, the; passage of, 15. 

Standards, false; their bad influ¬ 
ence on youth, 325. 

Stanford, Leland, failing as a 
lawyer, makes immense fortune 
in business, 99. 

Stanley, Henry M., his search for 
Livingstone, 272. 

Steam engine, labor involved in 
its making; Savary, Newcomen, 
Potter, Watt, and others helped 
in its perfection, 148. 

Stephenson, George, his purpose, 
268. 

Sterling, John, his nobility of 
character, 293. 


Stewart, A. T., refused porter 
position as manager, 331. 

Success, obtained by what we can 
do best, 116; in the student, not 
the university, 149; qualities 
necessary for, 154; won by man 
with a purpose, 267; the biggest 
word in America, 325; is not 
merely money making, 326; has 
been achieved under difficulties 
by millions, 327. 

Suicide, has been considered honor¬ 
able, 323. 

Sumner, Charles, on great ambi¬ 
tion, 331. 

T. 

Tact, or common sense, the best 

guide, 138. 

Talents, moderate, may achieve 
great results, 162. 

Talleyrand, owed his success to 
courtesy, 227. 

Tariff, the ; McKinley’s specialty, 
by advice of President Hayes, 
275. 

Tauler, a monk, on a certain sculp¬ 
tor, 320. 

Telescope, Yerkes’; thoroughness 
in making and packing lenses 
for shipment, 119. 

Temperance, of cabin-boy, 237. 

Tennyson, Alfred, got ten shillings 
for first poem, 99. 

Thoreau, on aspiration, 329. 

Thoroughness, importance of, 111, 
114; the reward of, 113; lack of 
in building, 124, 125; lack of, 
128,129; need of teaching it in * 
schools, 133, 277 ; young man’s 
in business, 285; aimed at by 
Germans more frequently than 
by Americans, 132. 

Thorwaldsen, poor and discour¬ 
aged, becomes suddenly rich and 
famous, 115; befriended by the 




INDEX. 


347 


famous, 116; thought his genius 
was decaying, 334. 

Time, the most precious posses¬ 
sion, 138. 

Ti Yin, Chinese student, his strug¬ 
gles and triumph, 32. 

Trifles, science of, 130. 

Truthfulness, importance of, 246; 
always to be insisted upon, 247. 

Turner, his enthusiasm, 19; his 
steadfast aim, 274. 

Tyndall, Professor, his daring and 
successful experiment, 26. 

V. 

Vanderbilt, Cornelius, succeeded 
by hard work alone, 90. 

Vanity, H. W. Beecher on, 86. 

Vices, nearly all have been ap¬ 
proved, 323. 

Victoria, Queen of England, her 
kindness to child in a hospital, 212. 

Virtues, nearly all have been con¬ 
demned, 323. 

Voltaire, was never satisfied with 
a single work, 321. 

W. 

Warner, Charles Dudley, encour¬ 
ages enthusiasm, 19. 

Washington, George, his com¬ 
mands always obeyed, 177; his 
courtesy, 224; his youthful code 
of manners, 224. 

Waters, Robert, on the Jews, 276. 

Watt, James, his enthusiasm, 19; 
his career, 44. 

Watts, Dr., his character, 249; 
his “ The mind’s the standard of 
the man,” 249. 

Wealth, 69; how regarded in 
Middle Ages, 70, 71; brings more 
sorrow than joy, 90; sanctified, 
Dwight L. Moody on, 91; result 


from young man’s wrong use of, 
151. 

Webster, Daniel, his enthusiasm, 
24; advocates self-effort, 148; on 
character, 249. 

Wellington, Duke of, greatest Eng¬ 
lish soldier, the iron duke, 215; 
his character, 246. 

Wesley, John, on money, its use 
and abuse, 83. 

Whipple, E. P., on relationship with 
living minds, — Shakespeare and 
Milton, 309. 

Wliitefield, George, from bootblack 
to preacher, 54. 

Wild West story, a woman’s attack 
on, 252. 

Will, 168-199; is power, 178; helps 
him who thinks he can, 183; pro¬ 
ductions of, 195; undivided, 287. 

Will power, lack of, cause of fail¬ 
ures, 194; of James A. Garfield, 

317. 

Willard, Frances E., her heroic 
purpose and successful career, 

318, 319. 

Willmott, R. A., on books, 256. 

Wiseman, Solon, his new pupil, 
158-161. 

Wishes, are prophecies, 329. 

Work, beginning of all success. 91; 
great aid to Watt’s success, 149; 
the object of, Bishop Spaulding 
on, 331 ; becomes divine when 
done in right spirit, 331; always 
infuse into it a harmonious 
spirit, 321. 

Wreckers, their request to have 
English lighthouses destroyed, 
323. 

Wren, Christopher, his enthusiasm 
for architecture, 16. 

Y. 

Youth, its irresistible charm is its 
enthusiasm, 21. 

























































































































































































IV. A. Wilde <5j° Co. , Publishers. 



UCCESS. By Orison 

“Pushing to the Front,” 
Cloth, $1.25. 


U 


Swett Harden. 
Architects of Fate,” 


Author of 
etc. 317 pp. 


11 is doubtful whether any success hooks for the young have appeared in modern times 
which are so thoroughly packed from lid to lid with stimulating, uplifting, and inspiring 
material as the self-help books written by Orison Swett Marden. There is not a dry par¬ 
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To stimulate, inspire, and guide is the mission of his latest book, “ Success,” and 
helpfulness is its keynote. Its object is to spur the perplexed youth toactthe Columbus 
to his own undiscovered possibilities; to urge him not to wait for great opportunities, 
but to seize common occasions and make them great, for he cannot tell when fate may 
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The element of romance is present in even the dryest history, but it is only as this 
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gives so just an estimate of exactly the amount each European nation contributed to the 
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T TRASHING TON’S YOUNG AIDS. A Story of the 
rr New Jersey Campaign, 1776-1777. By Everett T. Tomlin¬ 
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The crisis of the early days of the Revolution was met and passed during the Trenton 
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were crowded to an unbearable extent, forms a picture of this contest which is often 
overlooked. Dr. Tomlinson’s greatest success lies in the clearness with which he draws 
a picture of the actual conditions which existed during the Revolution. The boys will 
be eager for this new volume. 

r HREE COLONIAL BOYS. A Story of the Times 

of ’76. By Everett T. Tomlinson, Ph. D. 368 pp. Cloth, 
#1.50. 

It is a story of three boys who were drawn into the events of the times is patriotic, 
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and patriotism especially will be appreciated in this day. — Boston Transcript. 

r HREE YOUNG CONTINENTALS. A Story of 

the American Revolution. By Everett T. Tomlinson, Ph. D. 
364 pp. Cloth, #1.50. 

This story is historically true. It is the best kind of a story either for boys or girls, 
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r HE BEACH PATROL. A Story of the Life-Saving 

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The dangers and excitement of the Life-Saving Service are very graphically described 
and add to the general interest of the book. The real value of the story, however, lies 
in the fact, so clearly set forth, that it is possible for an earnest young man, of sterling 
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good for boys and young men. 

r HE YOUNG REPORTER. A Story of Printing 

House Square. By William Drysdale. 300 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 

I commend the book unreservedly. — Golden Ride. 

“The Young Reporter” is a rattling book for boys. — New York Recorder. 

The best boys’ book I ever read. — Mr. Phillips, Critic for New York Times. 

r HE EAST MAIL. The Story of a Train Boy. By 

William Drysdale. 328 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 

“The Fast Mail ” is one of the very best American books for boys brought out this 
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that the little sons of the present writer have greedily devoured the contents of the vol¬ 
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Travel-Ad venture Series. 



VER THE ANDES; or, Our Boys in New South 
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Spanish conquerors was finally met by the solid opposition of the South American 
people. Out of the terrors of the Revolution came liberty and the wonderful commercial 
and industrial development for which South America is famous, as well as for her inex¬ 
haustible mineral wealth. 

The subject is an inspiring one, and Mr. Butterworth has done full justice to the high 
ideals which have inspired the great men of South America. 


N WILD AERLCA. Adventures of Two Boys in the 
Sahara Desert, etc. By Thos. W. Knox. 325 pp. Cloth, 
$1.50. 

A story of absorbing interest. — Boston Journal. 

Our young people will pronounce it unusually good. — Albany Argus. 

He has struck a popular note in his latest volume. — Springfield Republican. 


r HE LAND OF THE KANGAROO. By Thos. 

W. Knox. Adventures of Two Boys in the Great Island Con¬ 
tinent. 318 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 

His descriptions of the natural history and botany of the country are very interesting. 
— Detroit Free Press. 

The actual truthfulness of the book needs no gloss to add to its absorbing interest. 
— The Book Buyer , New York. 


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Fighting for the Flag Series. 

Jl/TLD SHIPMAN JACK. By Chas. Ledyard Nor- 
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In the third volume of the “ Fighting for the Flag Series,” Jack is commissioned a 
midshipman in the navy; but while on his way North to join his class in Newport, where 
the Academy then was, he finds himself most unexpectedly on duty and in active service. 
In those days naval cadets were hurried through the Naval Academy with as little delay 
as possible, and Jack soon receives an assignment to duty under one of his former ship¬ 
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7 


ACK B E NS ON ’ S IOG; or , Afloat with the Flag in 

’6i. By Charles Ledyard Norton. 281 pp. Cloth, $1.25. 


An unusually interesting historical story, and one that will arouse the loyal impulses 
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attempted along this line before.— The Independent. 

A story that will arouse the loyal impulses of every American boy and girl.— The 
Press. 



MEDAL OF HONOR MAN; op Cruising 

Blockade Runners. By Charles Ledyard Norton. 


among 
280 pp. 


Cloth, $1.25. 

A bright, breezy sequel to “ Jack Benson’s Log.” The book has unusual literary 
excellence.— The Book Buyer , New York. 

A stirring story for boys.— The Journal, I udianapolis. 


/I SUCCESSFUL VENTURE. By Ellen Douglas 
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“The best story Miss Deland ever wrote,” says a critic who is familiar with the 
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“A Successful Venture” tells the story of a family of girls who found it necessary to 
make their own way in the world They had a good deal to learn, and experience is ex¬ 
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Ji/TALVERN, A NELGHBORHOOD STORY. By 
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Her descriptions of boys and girls are so true, and her knowledge of their ways is 
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Miss Deland was accorded a place with Louisa M. Alcott and Nora Perry as a suc¬ 
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Washington. 


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That the old-fashioned story still has a charm has been amply demonstrated by the 
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r ILE ORCUTT GLRLS; op One Term at the Academy. 

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Two types of New England girlhood are illustrated in “ The Orcutt Girls ”—one the 
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nERAPH, THE LITTLE VLOLLNLSTE. By Mrs. 
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Perhaps the most charming story she has ever written is that which describes Seraph, 
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ABOVE THE RANGE. By Theodora R. Jenness. 

1 332 pp. Cloth, $1.25. 

The quaintness of the characters described will be sure to make the story very pop¬ 
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A book of much interest and novelty. — The Book Buyer, New York. 

QUARTERDECK AND FOKSLE. By Molly 
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^-Miss Seawell has done a notable work for the young people of our country in her 
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A capital writer of boys’ stories is Mr. Kirk Munroe.— Outlook. 

Tp OREMAN JENNIE. By Amos R. Wells. A Young 

_£ Woman of Business. 268 pp. Cloth, $1.25. 

it is a delightful story. — The A dvance, Chicago. 

It is full of action. — The Standard , Chicago. 

A story of decided merit.— The Epworth Herald, Chicago. 

Jl/TYSTERLOUS VOYAGE OF THE DAPHNE. 
1VJL By Lieut. H. P. Whitmarsh. 305 pp. Cloth, $1.25. 

One of the best collections of short stories for boys and girls that has been published 
in recent years. Such writers as Hezekiah Butterworth, Wm. O. Stoddard, and Jane G. 
Austin have contributed characteristic stories which add greatly to the general interest of 
the book. 

PHILIP LEICESTER. By Jessie E. Wright. 264 
IT pp. Cloth, $1.25. 

The book ought to make any reader thankful for a good home, and thoughtful for the 
homeless and neglected.— Golden Rule. 

The story is intensely interesting. — Christiari Inquirer. 

C AP’N THISTLE TOP. By Sophie Swett. 282 pp. 
Cloth, $1.25. 

Sophie Swett knows how to please young folks as well as old; for both she writes 
simple, unaffected, cheerful stories with a judicious mingling of humor and plot. Such 
a story is “ Cap’n Thistletop.”— The Outlook. 

r HE MAR/OR IE BOOKS. Edited by Miss Lucy 
Wheelock. 6 Vols. Over 200 Illustrations. The Set, $1.50. 

A very attractive set of books for the little folks, full of pictures and good stories. 

J~\OT'S LIBRAR Y. Edited by Miss Lucy Wheelock. 

IS 10 Vols. Over 400 Illustrations. The Set, $2.50. 

In every way a most valuable set of books for the little people. Miss Wheelock 
possesses rare skill in interesting and entertaining the littie ones. 


Boston: W. A. Wilde 6° Co., 25 Bromjield Street. 


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